Maxwell C. Wheat, Jr.
A Poem by Max with a flavor of the season.........
By Maxwell C. Wheat, Jr.
Says Grandmother, taking our hands
Leading us to the stream in our back woods
She shows us fronds of ferns lined with leaflets
Each shape like a fat “L”
“They’ll fit on elves’ feet, Nanny.”
“The elves’ll fall out.”
“don’t you know why elves’ feet
Are pointed and curled?”