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THE CRUNCH OF GOLDEN LEAVES
The crunch of golden leaves under clumsy feet
Echoes effortlessly though tall nude trees
The walk though the woods a mural of beauty
Speckles of sunlight through naked branches
Tantalize with projectiles of luminescence
The senses enticed by the kaleidoscopic display.
Fall is my favorite time of
Fall is my favorite time of the year. The color, the smells, thanksgiving...the poem is golden, Stephen
I love autumnal poems, and
I love autumnal poems, and this one is certainly autumnal.
Starward in process of becoming J-Called