A Million Tennis Balls
written by: Heath Brougher
In the depths of winter
when the grass dies
unto a faded shade of brown,
I cover my lawn with a million tennis balls
in order to brighten the otherwise drab colors,
in order to brighten it to a hue similar to summer grass
among the thoroughly dense cold drought of fertility currently reigning.
It’s like having a million tiny suns in the front yard.
It’s putting the color back into a world dulled by winter.
Heath Brougher is the Editor-in-Chief of Concrete Mist Press. He was awarded the 2018 Poet of the Year Award from Taj Mahal Review. He has published eleven books of poetry and prose and is finally getting back into the groove of things after a 5 year period of being trapped as an editor. He is ready to get back into the creative driver seat for a bit.
Latest posts by Heath Brougher (see all)
- The Ingrate of Repetition - February 6, 2024
- Sonic Certitude and Servitude - September 18, 2023
- Welcome to the Folded Void - March 14, 2023
