Raymond A. Foss Poems

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The swan boats motionless
the pond turning to a mud flat
the flowers, tulips shimmering
in yellows, oranges, and reds

The grasses by the shore sways
the lawn right to the waters
angles and shapes
catching my eye, drawing me in

There in the mud shining
bits of the history
ancient pieces of plates
and pipe, nestled in the dirt

Bits of clay, of pottery
long since discarded
the day to day jettisoned
finding their way to be bottom
an archeologist’s dream


February 12, 2010
Boston Common,
being drained for cleaning
at least 20 years ago



Copyright by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010
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