Hand Me Down to die

[ChristopherSea]

final version

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
tattered Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's scarcely cloaked
by Sissy’s torn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears,
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Raccoon bandits struck
beneath veil of darkness.
A throng of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.

Relentless sparrows
tore away at my threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed shamelessly
on my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.


le/bil/tru/tec/tod final version 4.0 Thank you!

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Hand Me Down to die

original

In Mom’s frayed wool pants,
I sweltered this summer.
The red flannel shirt
from Dad was no better.

I’m dead-head to head
with bronzing sunflowers,
wearing my Grandpa’s
shabby straw Fedora.

With Harvest over,
starved hoarfrost nips harder.
Stiff neck's bare beneath
Sissy’s moth-worn muffler.

Pitied daylilies
when the bees droned their ears
recalling abuse
through this lingering year:

Rabble of magpies
pinched my fancy buttons.
Rowdy masked bandits
struck in cloak of darkness.

Relentless sparrows,
brusquely tore away threads,
not seeking consent
before lining their nests.

Deer gnawed needlessly
at my hat made of hemp.
Voles carted away
the dry husks of my flesh.

All faith in me lost,
with my chores forsaken,
yet everyone knew
that crows would not frighten.