While I wandered in the woods the other day, I received a surprise - the gift of a poem. A poem for this particularly warm, dry Autumn.
AUTUMN'S YOUTH
Fall debuts without fanfare.
Here a red fringed branch
blinks brightly from the brush.
There an oak bedecked
in Midas glory
pops up upon the path.
But mostly trees seem tired,
their drying limbs droop
heavily toward earth.
Their worn out leaves,
edged in weary gray brown,
sport age spots and ragged tears.
Like star gazers beneath
an early evening sky
revealing its secrets,
Those awaiting autumn’s awe
keep vigil and behold
her colors unfold
before their eyes.
Copyright E. Ramos 10/7/2007
No comments:
Post a Comment