Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Gold in the West


Chatter of the Aspens

The Aspens Quake in mirth and prayer,
a mystery as to what they see –
yet bound to me in youth’s memory.

The Sierras are grand in boulders of granite,
and trees that scrape the heavens;
but when all is but remembering,
I am called by these simple trees…

as gold comes early –
just for me.

3 Comments:

At 7:44 AM, Blogger Vi Jones said...

A lovely poem, faucon, and an equally lovely memory.

Vi

 
At 4:39 PM, Blogger Lorijayne said...

Splendid! Aspens, the dancing trees.

 
At 4:41 AM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

Lovely thoughts.

 

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