Poetic Devices:
Kale
I am in a forest;
My brothers will never find me here.
Over my head is a green umbrella;
I feel the earth under my bare feet.
It is silent, here in the forest;
The kale trunks stand sentinel.
As I brush against them
The leaves shiver.
Pearls of dew race, unite,
Like beads of mercury;
They fall in my hair.
And here, under the green umbrella,
Pale, beaded mushrooms lie scattered – Frozen drops of mercury,
Deep in the forest of kale.
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Hilda Offen - Kale