With blades sharpened, they pierce
in perfect time, synchronized to the
tree frog’s peeps, rhizomes unfurling
from their recent brush with burrowed
worms, smelling of dirt beer and toad
spawn, returning by instinct after a long
night outside of emerald city, because
really, who needs a yellow brick road.
*Today’s prompt from National Poetry Writing Month encouraged us to very specifically describe something in terms of at least three of the five senses. I hope this poem has incorporated at least three and maybe a “sixth.”
I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?