wondering when the trace of dawn
will transform her horizon
into colder, mountain tones.
And she waits around the river bend
coloring the wind,
watching as wildering willows
absorb her scarlet
apricot, amber
honey hues....
Her leaves are droplets of melody,
basking in golden swells
soft at first, then crisp
to the touch of evening.
All is found
in the birth of these moments-
with wings catching faith
and new promise,
she soars upon
heavens.
And I sing in her joy,
fathering her,
until she meets the end
of another brushed
canvass
she radiates through.
Written 11/23/2011 for our library's poetry contest...wrote this during my English class. thanks for reading :)
