Old Poetry - Add work by your favorite old poets here! » MOSS by Tessa Sweazy Webb -

In cool and cloistered groves I often see
In fragile beauty growing near the ground
Soft moss in deep jade green; there is no sound.
No pulse, no whispered words of melody,
Clinging to loam or rock or swaying tree,
Its silky texture is securely bound,
Protecting like the bandage on a wound ;
The loveliness of moss is poetry.

There is a mystery in silent things
Enwrapped in tranquilness of latticed wood,
Nor storms can stir their peaceful solitude,
So like the twining of rememberings,
As April brings new faith in bursting flower.
Such miracle is found in mossy bower.

Tessa Sweazy Webb
An OPA (aka,Ohio Verse Writers Guild) Charter board member and first Chairlady