For the scent of the wicker chair
That has lingered with me for fourteen autumns.
For the way the wind shuffles
Through the three panel
Rusted screens.
For the woven blanket
Damp from last night’s
October rain,
And the shuffle of newspapers
With crosswords from the
Prior census.
The moments like this,
With the hues of red,
Warm against the brisk fall wind,
Kissing the coffee mug
With mom’s pale lipstick.
To he who shook the trees
And he who killed the grass.
In thanks for all of this, and
Then the crisp crack of a club
As a gold ball echoes between the
Forest. For this, I am in thanks.
Thomas Wiaduck
Tommy Wiaduck is an undergraduate student at the University of Michigan who is very undecided in what he wants to study. His work is inspired by the day-to-day happenings and people in his life. In the future, Tommy hopes to continue his work and craft as a writer in his free time.
