Written for:  The Sunday Whirl, Wordle #593

Words:  crow, thistle, sheet, loss, stalks, depths, throw,
        wispy, crest, elder, sky, tremor


Grass-green corn stalks
are shooting up.  He looks
at his financial sheets
and is hopeful no loss
will occur this season.
The elders will be proud–
nothing to throw away,
no one having to eat crow.
Wispy clouds like spiky
thistle thread the sky
over the crest of
the mountain.  As he
opens his front door, 
he feels a tremor
in his right hand.  
Not the first time.
Usually keeps his distance 
from doctors, but now
he is frightened; it's time.

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