Home Poem by jack green

Yellow, red with a touch of green.
Brown and crimson help fill the scene.
Cool breeze stirring painted foliage serene.
In these mountains I call home.

Gone are the summer flower bouquets.
Replaced by tree top tempest ablaze.
No artist could ever render justice to this place.
In these mountains I call home.

The winter wind brings the snow in drifts.
The tempest fallen, trunks stark and stiff.
Sunbeams pierce an icy cloud slowly shifts.
In these mountains I call home.

Bitter weather brings freezing diamonds of sleet.
Followed by the first buds sprouting at my feet.
Soon bud turns to flowers ready to compete.
In my Appalachian mountain home.