Leaves, Limbs and Florida Heat

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

The blooms and leaves as symbols do not touch

His older brother, Donald, or one gone

Last month.  The leaves and blossoms settle much

Too lightly since they hold no thought of dawn

To tempt them fallen, light, like ash or dust,

Much lighter than a coffin or an urn

Since symbol is a symbol, thinnest rust.

No symbols ever played by cowboy burn

Among the citrus trees.  The boys built forts

To hide behind to shoot boys’ rubber band

Zinged ammunition.  Then they turned to sports

Of baseball and of football sunshine tanned.

  These boys of flesh and sweat and blood were not

    Sweet petals, leaves or limbs.  These boys were hot.

© Phillip Whidden