Poems

Poem

Don't be so glum,
plum.

Don't feel beaten.

You were made 
to be eaten.

But don't you know
that deep within,
beneath your juicy flesh
and flimsy skin,

Poem

Aren’t you cold and won’t you freeze,
With branches bare, you winter trees?
You’ve thrown away your summer shift,
Your autumn gold has come adrift.