Poetry Porch: Poetry


by Robert K. Johnson

Day after late-spring day,
from my maples’ lowest limbs
to the tips of their top branches,
swarms of caterpillars

eat the leaves’ green spans
with so much passion that I,
almost asleep, can hear them
in the darkness. And my greed

matches their hungry mouths.
I want to taste every food
and wine, book and film,
mountain, city, ocean

devour everything displayed
on the long buffet of riches
the dawn light offers me
day after day all year.

Copyright © 2007 by Robert K. Johnson.