}
};
The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!
Child On Top Of A Greenhouse
Theodore Roethke
(1)
Poem topics: wind, white, sunlight, glass, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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