Dying trees light the match—
bring first flame to wood.
Skeleton fingers rake the sky,
poking holes in somber grey.
Mostly though,
Mostly though,
they bleed,
orange sifting to yellow—
You can almost hear
a stand-alone gasp
amid rags of faded green,
stronger trees pause—
then follow.
then follow.
13 comments:
Oh Liza! You do indeed have an artist's eye...and a writer's heart...
Beautiful, both poem and photo. Thanks.
gasp,,at change of color.
well,,,don't change your writing..
Oh, just beautiful. (I think I said that about your previous post!) You have such a wonderful flow to your words :)
How cool is that... love the half-red, half-green tree. I jsut showed my four-year-old this pic and he thinks it's pretty cool, too!
beautiful! And something much on my mind lately. I just moved back to the east coast after having lived in the desert for several years. I still can't get over the gorgeousness of the scenery out here. I am in heaven :)
Nice. I miss seeing the fall colors since moving to L.A.
Lee
Tossing It Out
Lovely! I felt the transformation from summer to fall:)
That was really nice!
Nice pics and a nice poen. Thank. And thanks for your comments regarding your insight into Boston and its buildings and history. Its much appreciated as I've never visited this great city.
Stephen Tremp
Pretty tree. I assume that's leaves changing color, but it looks almost like flowers.
Gorgeous writing and image. What a great way to start the day. :)
behind on reading blogs. great poem and photo. rose
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