Archibald
Archibald Moore
is a mushroom today.
His fruiting body
lifts from the grave,
while beneath the dirt,
he stretches a web,
weaves all that is living
with all that is dead.
6 thoughts on "Archibald"
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Exquisite.
Thank you, Pam!
Love it, Lisa!
No notes, just admiration.
Thank you, Kevin. I give all the credit to Archibald.
Superb poem!
Thank you, Nancy!