One day, when all the leaves have fallen
And the days have become lily white
And the squirrel sifts through her acorn stock
In the hole,
in the tree,
she shelters for the nonce,
We shall once more stare toward home
Where mahogany covers the bustling bog
And blue glossy lignum vitae laugh.

We shall return to the green hills
There the willow trees sway,
And there flows the smiling crystal stream,
And toils the indefatigable ants.
We will reach for our bag of tool
And we shall shape mass into the things we sought
In those cold foreign lands,
With the passion never seen,
With a heart that never fails.

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A little about me and poetry

This poem is my submission to the School Poetry 100 Day Challenge hosted by Hive account@d-pend, whom I would like to thank for sponsoring this competition. He is indeed a godsend. Though a bit dubious, I would consider myself an intermediate writer of poetry. My first love is prose, so if you get a feel of something other than verse in my poetry that is why. I use poems to assist me when I have writer’s block. This strategy, however, seems to be morphing into something more serious. At least I think so.

Thanks for reading.

Poem by: Hive account@nicholas83

Date: 6/4/18

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