Poetry

Sprouted (draft)

Up, up.

Green shoots,

eager brown boots.

A steep climb

for a little crime:

coins here, coins there,

as jumpy as an adult hare.

For a good cause;

give yourself pause.

The goose’s egg,

easily as big as your head,

a lilting harp

that never plays sharp.

Snatch them up quick!

Ears open, never miss a trick.

Down Down,

nearing the ground.

Run, lightning feet

through the patch of beet.

Safe for a while,

the end of the trial…

DOWN DOWN. DOWN DOWN.

Giant fists waiting to pound.

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