Here in Prescott, cottonwoods,
are scarlet from the fall;
in stately groves they rise,
as big as they are tall.
The leaves, a carpet stirring,
rustled by an autumn breeze;
they're dancing minuets,
as pretty as you please.
The ducks cry from the water,
startled by our feet;
and in awesome rush they rise,
and in the air, they meet.
November passing quickly,
gives sunshine in piecemeal;
the chills of coming winter,
in these days begins to steal.
But nature is the prize we seek,
as seasons change their mood;
fall is but the moderator,
seldom harsh and never rude.
Dave, a wonderful poem of the day. Congrats for being chosen...10+++++
This is a highly imaginative poem haveing nice execution. Thanks and congratulations for being selected this poem as the poem of the day.
Beautiful rhymes and melodious rhythm, I have read this lovely poem with great attention
CONGRATULATIONS Dear Dave being chosen as The Member Poem Of The Day.5 Stars TOP Score for this magnificent poem
A beautiful poem of nature. Well done for poem of the day Dave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Congratulations dear poet! Wonder how many souls are dancing on the music of this beautiful creation, mine surely does, thank you!
Nice comment, Elena!