Kathryn Stripling Byer


The crows  wake  up early,
 claiming the day
with their black wings
and hungry beaks.

Dare you walk out
to claim your own morning?
Shield the sunflower sprouts
from their pillage?

What in the garden
is yours?  What in the forest?
If only, you say,
you could pitch your tent

amid green shoots
and blue shadows,
renounce the roots
holding you fast.

Why do you let
the crows taunt you?
Throw down your toothbrush.
Let drop your  nightgown

and walk out the back door.
The  grassblades will never
again feel so whetted,
the earth underfoot so forgiving.

Make a free website with Yola