Submitted by Benjamin Gorman on November 17, 2012
The front came at night
a thousand thousand footsteps
marching me to sleep.
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on November 16, 2012
Diminutive leaves
Chuckle at relentless sun
Butterflies whisper
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on November 15, 2012
Trees watch quietly
Footsteps shopping everywhere
Bluest Berkley skies
Submitted by Clayton Medeiros on November 14, 2012
Late day windy leaves
In angled afternoon light
Reflect October
Submitted by Michael Mayhew on November 14, 2012
When my brother
Delivers the fruit
That ripens
All at once on the
Trees in his yard
He recites a poem
Of his own invention
Figs! Figs!
Figs by the score!
Figs! Figs!
Figs galore!
Because he is
My brother and
Because he is autistic and
Because embarassment
Comes so naturally to
Me with him
I roll my eyes
Limes! Limes!
Limes by the score!
Limes! Limes!
Limes galore!
Only much later
Do I notice the
Simple practicality of
His verse
Practical as our
Father was practical
Plums! Plums!
Plums by the score!
Plums! Plums!
Plums galore!
And when he arrives
On my doorstep with
An old grocery bag
Full of fresh harvest
With a poem on his
Lips and a twinkle in
His eyes he also
Reminds me of my
Mother who understood
That food is love
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