The creep is onupwards of five to ten feetoutwards into the marshesberms fencesentangled withroot of bladdernuttrillium oak Even a ciotogends up flummoxedbewilderedhare in the headlightsinvading army ofseed and airtransported into anenemy territorywith no enemiesa wisp of thesilver tongue isall it needs to conquerthis dense thicketthis wily invaderis bane to theconservationistnaturalistleaner towards thebeneficial towasp and waxwingalikeContinue reading “Autumn Olive”
poetry I have written
Anne's mediocre poetry 