PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Auburn were the leaves upon the ground
rich shades of yellow, red and brown
'ere as the sun rays warmly shone
upon a grassy, leaf-lit hill.

And quiet fell upon the lake,
save for the whisper of the wind,
the cricket's call and hum of bees -
and then the strange loon's cry.

And there lingered in the air, a scent -
a passing thought that thrilled my soul
as sun rays filtered through siloutted trees,

and warmed my skin.

I was content to lose my worries...

to this solitude.

Me, the silent philosopher...
and so I stood and pondered.

There stood an aged sycamore,
towering among other trees
with arms reaching out, heavenward.

In quiet protest to the world's wounded ways

and yet content to praise God for beauty -
knowing that, which others simply did not know.