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Autumn Walks This Way.
Tree limbs linked, form arch to lead
to place of darkly shadowed damp,
ablaze with gold from autumn's lamp
singing from a path beneath.
Cast the eye to Elder green,
where ghost white bloom does disavow;
magenta webs now ride the bough.
And all is draped 'neath muffled cape.
Bladed grass shows emerald sheen
while dressed in mist damp lace.
Reflection's light now falls away
for evening tides swift turn the day.
Classical!
Reminds me of the best of the Georgian poets, especially the greatest ones who got shoved aside when the nastiness of modernism twisted twentieth century literature into a warped and unfriendly coterie.
Starward
Thank you very much, to read
Thank you very much, to read such high praise has made my day, I am so glad it has given you pleasure. Sue.