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Two Poems by Steven Croft

(image by Greg Waskovich, on Pixabay)


foreshadows perfect

like a blue-green twilight sky

polished like a mountain brook’s

crystal water

happy like the tongue

tasting a strawberry

cleansed with expectancy

like the smell of a pine forest

after rain

a word mirrors life’s mystery

like a yellow wildflower mirrors

the sun


Farmhouse Hours

Morning drip of leaky kitchen faucet

heard through quiet rooms

Noonday hush of forgotten things

in attic’s bars and shadows of dormer light

Afternoon wind blows dust into a field’s headland,

shakes trellis ivy, strokes clothes on a line

Evening’s boots across the wooden porch,

screen door spring’s creak and slam

Night’s dime-bright moon makes of apple trees

shadows waiting to be picked


Steven Croft lives on a barrier island off the coast of Georgia on a property lush

with vegetation. His work has appeared in San Pedro River Review, Red Eft Review,

Tiny Seed Literary Journal, Williwaw Journal, Your Daily Poem, Quaci Press

Magazine, Gyroscope Review, and other places.

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1 Comment

Oct 20, 2020

I love "Evening’s boots across the wooden porch,"


"shadows waiting to be picked."

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