The backyard glows
like an emerald, the leaves are
gemstones in a dark forest,
reflecting the dying light of the rain,
while the wet wood of bark
and fence posts offers no bite,
just molders away with a
mushroom aura, anticipating
the decaying gloom.
Earlier a rabbit hopped
through the soft marsh of the grass
searching, investigating, hopeful
They aren’t leaves, they are drops
of jade, and peridot, shining above a
glade of malachite blades,
while the topaz sky lowers its skirts
into a sapphire sea
If this poem seems somewhat derivative, it is: a couple of days ago I purposely wrote a poem after Pablo Neruda (whose writing I adore), so I had the names of gemstones still lingering in my brain. These words will be included in my Camp NaNo Project . . . . I *think*. Like everything else in life, it remains a work in progress!
Thank you for reading! If you feel like writing something about how your own little patch of the earth looks in the evening after it rains, I would love to read it!
The Poetry Patio 