Little brown morsels on the walk,

As if where a goose might stalk…

Of a plant nature,

Pine cones–nomenclature–

Literally pushed off the stalk.

Old pine cones make way for new,

I think they’re spruce, don’t you…

Smaller than pine

Seeds small and fine,

Lying there looking so blue.

Maybe squirrel or bird trickle-down

In feeding threw them to ground…

They await a broom,

Detritus soon

Destined to be compost pile bound!

–Jonathan Caswell

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