Moss
Moss is not just a carpet, a pillow,
a hidey-hole for mice. Not just
a whisper of spring green
against decades-old bark
catching only the light it needs.
It is witness that today at least
there is moisture enough
on our parching planet,
that life yet thrives
in the furnace that burns here
that for now green still
gladdens nature’s palette.
7 thoughts on "Moss"
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What a lovely little ode to a thing so often forgotten! And “gladdens nature’s palette” is wonderful.
We find reassurance where we can, eh Nancy?
I agree with Maira. This is a thoughtful ode to something many don’t think about at all. Also seconding love for “green still/gladdens nature’s palette”
Not enough is written about moss! Great little poem
I agree also. Wonderful.
I find this way of looking at the changing climate–taking comfort in little things. As usual, Nancy, your poem is brief & profound.
love this gentle introduction of moss is not just…
well done!