Under Their Mortal Glory

Keith Taylor


I watched the old oaks

tossing in their mortal glory

while bits of dried bark and dead twigs

rained down on all of us below—

squirrels and chipmunks,

gold finches finished with their molt

and the small box in the corner

where Christine has planted

her first crop, her snow peas,

perhaps just a few days early.



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *