Free Verse – Monday One Stop Poetry

Last Summer

Our forty-foot fir tree
died last summer;
The finches still perch
on its gray-brown limbs;
A woodpecker beats
for bugs on its bark;
The red-shafted flicker
wails a spring song;
And in the burst of spring
as its limbs gray
and its needles fall
I mourn its death;
A mourning dove cries
at the setting sun.

For more poetry go to onestoppoetry .

In my opinion, Free Verse is the beat of another drummer. I have written sonnets, sestinas, villanelles, and other forms, but I always come back to my own images and my own beats.