Backyard Greenhouse

A poem.

Backyard Greenhouse
I go to the greenhouse
to get rid of the blues.
Loamy earth smell inside
and warmth steamy as a sauna
even though there's frost
on the clothesline.

Tomatoes, peppers, basil
wiggle up from seed pots.
One ladybug crisscrosses
the fogged glass door.
Christine Vovakes

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...

Loading...