Original Poems

a little awestruck

 a great blue
 over a pure gold
 flecked with red
 the fall, like water,
 flowing through the traveler,
 returning gladness
 a welcoming place,
 wreathed in autumn's calm glow,
 where the walker stops
 hearing finally the voice
 that reminds him that good is
 by a pond,
 trees like new angels
 spreading wings,
 scattered leaves
 on the mirroring surface --
 cerulean day