Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 23
Through the forest grass,
a lockstep march.
Neat columns
of silent striding teams.

To ground they go,
to burrow deep.
Bringing prizes
foreign and mundane

Can they look into the giants above?
There is no time to dream.

Hurry home! Your colony calls
and the task is but half done
#23 in my Year One collection, from notes on 3/21
Written by
Matt Bernstein  24/M/Atlanta
(24/M/Atlanta)   
49
     BR Dragos and Matt Bernstein
Please log in to view and add comments on poems