A mouthful of bite-sized poems

Fashioned with

a mustache

of spindly ferns,

and a beard

of mossy stones,

the hillside spring

whispers year round.

Sages, ripe with sense,

our forefathers

would not have bothered

with books

about growing

a better beard!

Our dogs —

fierce hunters

of belly rubs.

Over the years

the stone

bloomed lichens

in silhouetted circles.

2 thoughts on “A mouthful of bite-sized poems

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