Child On Top Of A Greenhouse

The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!

by Theodore Roethke

Comments (3)

Beautiful microscopic details unfolding through a youngsters childhood mischief. I cannot believe how little appreciation this piece has received... It to me deserves far more I love this... Nay I adore it... Karen
No
I need hlep will someone help me please what does this poem mean