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Digging a HoleDigging beneath dappled shade, And a chorus of applauding trees. Crunch. A sharp-spade chewing sound,Digging a Hole
Metal hum like plucked wire.
Aching back, muddy smears, And not a blister; just A certain hardness of the skin, Cracking like a gourd Across the wrinkles of my thumb.
“Why were you digging a hole?” She asked me, afterwards.
by ~Paul-Cooper
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- Current Residence: Manchester
- Interests: Writing, photography
- Tools of the Trade: The monkey on my back
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The flower said I wish I was a tree, the tree said I wish I could be a different type of tree, the cat wished it was a bee
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