Member-only story
Moss-Covered Rocks
A Love Poem
A warm day in late November.
Daughter: eight.
Son: six.
The amber and scarlet leaves,
Already raked under the carpet.
Other than those stuffed,
Between moss-covered rocks in the yard.
Snug in there,
Like mortar between bricks.
Only softer and smelling of decay.
It’s the smell of Autumn,
That makes it so appreciable.
Crisp, earthy aroma,
Mixed with rich redolent apples.
The morning spent,
Riding bicycles and scooters.
Moss-covered rock seats for resting.
Like healthy Canadians,
We talked about the weather.
We wondered when the snow scrapers,
Should take residence in the car.
We promoted building blocks,
From storage to playtime.
We built a dozen little vehicles,
Being driven by a dozen little drivers.
Then we built a baker’s dozen more.
The moss-covered rocks,
Made high-quality home bases.
And the leafy mortar in between,
Brilliant for…
