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450.35 Small Gifts

Daily Note

Every day, a photograph, a poem.

The wind picked up a few days ago and the immense branches of the sycamore waved in the breeze, stretching itself and loosening the bark it had outgrown, dropping the thin segments onto the lawn, blanketing our yard with ready made mini-canvases which our grandkids loved to paint.

I miss those days.

Small Gifts

Giant sycamore
on windy days of summer
releases its bark,
dropping its thin textured shapes
once painted by young grandkids.

Sheri Edwards
071021 19036521
Poetry/Photography

Post 863 days in a row

Sheri Edwards View All

Geeky Gramma ~~
Retired Middle School Language Arts/Media Teacher ~~
Writer and Thinker~~
Art from the Heart

2 thoughts on “450.35 Small Gifts Leave a comment

  1. Sheri, I have never thought of painting the bark that collects in our lawn – and I guess I always thought it was squirrels making the mess. Just last night, however… (you’ve encouraged a tiny poem from me)…
    Under the porch overhang I sat
    Listening to the rain
    Watching the street glisten
    Seeing the bark fall
    A neighbor’s gutter full
    Water plummeting down
    Making a dent in the asphalt drive

    Thank you for your daily posts, Sheri. You inspire me, and you may never know just how much.

    • Thank you, Joy! Love the imagery– I could picture me beside you with a cup of tea enjoying the peace and quiet– right down the dent in the asphalt! Water drops are powerful and so are the drops of words in comment or post. Thanks for sharing! ~ Sheri

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