Moss by Timothy Pettet

Moss, like rime frost,
blankets the side of a gravestone.
It is wet. It grows
from rock wearing away.
It is not ice.
It is not cold.

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3 Responses to “Moss by Timothy Pettet”

  1. I don’t know what to say except “wow.” This is excellent.

  2. Timothy Pettet Says:

    I’m always interested in detail but can certainly live with “wow.” Thanks.

  3. I like the imagery in the poem – the gravestone, put there as a memorial, being slowly worn down and taken over by something as seemingly harmless as moss. It’s a great reminder that life is fleeting and that even the things that we leave behind will eventually fade away, leaving only moss and earth.

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