Poetry

Finding Fall

To find the colors of fall you don’t have to look far, They are all around wherever you are.

The Hickory with colors of golden bronze, across the lake the breeze it’s leaves calms.

The Birch with the color of bright yellow, calling after me as if to say be my fellow.

The dogwood with leaves of purple red, as if it says words left unsaid.

The poplar with leaves of golden yellow, standing out as it screams hello.

The Tupelo with colors of red, soon its leaves will be dead.

The mighty oak its leaves golden Brown, it’s nuts the squirrels take down.

The sugar Maple with the color of Orange red, soon its leaves it will shed.

The ash colorful and its purple,yellow and red, sorry Birch I choose the ash instead.

Cool nights sitting by the fire, of this life I will never tire.

Watch the colors change when you can, this beauty provided to us by the Man.

Blog, Poetry

A Fall Day

The flag blows as to say, “Look at me!”. The ever changing colors of the trees.

Chimes hang from the gutters with care, the tunes they are quite rare.

The brass bell swaying just a bit, awaiting my departure in the trees the birds sit.

The sky a vibrant blue, fluffy clouds stare back at you.

Mums, gourds, pumpkins and spice, all that makes everything nice.

Today a day for the books, a fall day as beautiful as it looks.

Jill L. Ware

Poetry

The Lake

The breeze brushes across my face, Cooling with its strength and speed.

I think I’ve finally found my place, the lake having the serenity I need.

The wind slows as the sun appears, bringing with it the afternoon heat.

A frog somewhere behind me I hear, a day like this is hard to beat.

I watch the minnows from where I sit, swimming past without a care.

Mother finally comes into sight, mess with her babies I not dare.

The baskets hang as beautiful as can be, Blooms full with color of white and red.

The birds have yet to visit me, when they do they will be happy and fed.

The hammock hangs off in the distance, I wont use it without assistance you see.

Falling out I’m not taking the chance, There is a scardy cat in me.

As the ripples gently kiss the shore, the shore completely unaware.

I grab the pole with my favorite lure, For a while the lake with it I share.

Jill L. Ware