This poem was written in response to a prompt in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination. The chapter on syntax and diction suggested a poem where each line ends with a verb. (Spoiler alert: I often don’t completely follow the rules. ;] )
Little Chipmunk Up his little head peaks from his little hole-door open. His little mind questions, Where’s everyone positioned? His little body scurries across the lawn faded, the autumn yard shaded. To the feeder grounds he races for its lesser seeds discarded. His little cheeks balloon, his little heart delights to his little home he runs. His house with abundance fills. Oh, yes! Winter, she is coming.
This poem is part of an online collection I call Little Morsels of Delight.