Number 12: Jar: An Apostrophe

Stevens, Wallace, rearranged

In Tennessee, like nothing else,
Of neither bird nor bush you gave.
Bare and grey you were.
Dominion, you took everywhere.

Of a port in air, and tall,
And round upon the ground you were.
No longer wild, sprawled around,
The wilderness rose up to you:

A hill, surrounded by wilderness
Made slovenly by you.
Upon that hill you were round.
In Tennessee I placed you.


I’m taking part in National Blog Posting Month, which means I’m posting on this blog every day throughout November. You can follow along and see who else is posting this month by following these hashtags on Twitter: #NetPositiveBlog and #NaBloPoMo