The Matriarch

Swaying gently in the breeze,
I am one of the tall pine trees.
Needles fall like rain,
upon the forest's counterpane.

Cones like hailstones to the ground.
The forest animals alert to every sound.
Stirrings from the forest floor, 
I wait to oversee proceedings,
a performance which I am leading.

You dare to sit on my branches birds.
I shake you off, you ...

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This weeks rhymers theme..overeating

Greed Haiku

The scales of doom loom
On the floor of my bathroom
Greed you may assume

© 2018 Taylor Crowshaw

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