| Biographical Poetry posted September 20, 2008 |
  |
Memories of a time when a feather was a treasure
Backyard Treasures
by adewpearl
For the childlike wonder in each of us
|
I would search my yard for four-leafed clovers - some days the search could last for hours. The sun on my back, grass stains on my knees, my reward, a charm with special powers. Sometimes my yard other trophies would yield - a blue robin's egg or even a nest. Its intricate weave of delicate twigs - this, a prize worthy of any knight's quest. Helicopter seeds from the maple tree, I'd pull them apart to stick on my nose. They spun to the ground as gifts from above - more than first seems on a giant tree grows. Feathers from cardinals, robins and blue jays, pine cones and acorns, a piece of pink quartz. Was ever a trove of such treasure among the wealth of the world's richest courts? I am not heir to family fortune - no treasure have I under lock and key. But clovers are still there for seeking, and maples, from seeds, grow in majesty. |
 Recognized |
|
My suburban yard was a wonderland - honeysuckle and forsythia at the border, dogwoods, red maple, holly and morning glories on one side of the house, mountain pink planted down the hill by the front steps. My dad was a construction worker, so this was no mansion, but I felt like I lived in paradise. My yard never failed to yield some treasure, whether four leaf clover or robins egg. How long has it been since you put one of those maple seed pods on your nose or blew the seeds of a dandelion? Maybe too long?
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. adewpearl All rights reserved.
adewpearl has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
