Moss
Fuzzy green
leprechaun carpets
plush and velvety, hush
the scampering feet
of those small
mischievous sprites,
who, almost like Midas,
turn everything emerald,
while hiding those buckets
of glistening rainbow gold
among the tangled roots
and brittle leaf litter,
propagating such marvelous
moss so hardy and humble–
miraculously moist meekness
that clads the cusp
between winter
and spring,
upholstering
the granite boulders
in snuggly verdant,
St. Patrick’s Day comfort–
flowerless but festive
with reproducing spores,
bringing this poem
back around
to where it began.
by Polly Castor
3/17/2020
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2 Comments
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This poem made me feel…green and fuzzy all over!
or at least wanting to walk barefoot on that carpet!
or get out my green pens and play moss-painter!
Or…something!Are ye an Irish Lass?
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Author
nope… but thought we all needed a bit of fun.
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