Green Bones
Soft green bones
of growing things
are easily distorted.
She runs through open doors,
can’t help herself,
she’s a horse,
jumping flower-bed fences.
Come in! I yell
balancing milk bottles.
She stands steaming
kicking her hooves
as I wrestle her
into her uniform.
3 replies on “Green Bones”
This is lovely. Soft green bones…an enviable line! It’s really great how all of the poems for today converse.
I read this poem on the last day of spring when “soft green bones” were all about and I was delighted by it.
Rebecca, this is so lovely, and reminds me right away of my granddaughter, Laurel. She’s 11 and is on the cusp of being a different child, but your image of the girl who “stands steaming/kicking her hooves” will stay with me, and will always be Laurel. And the phrase, “Soft green bones.” Thank you for sharing this will all ov us.