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Poem

I love the browns in Tahoe’s nature,
I cry from the beauty in each acre …. 

I have seen many parts of America, 
savored each region’s unique flavor,
yet I am now a mute and awed appraiser.
In Tahoe, nature and enchantment neighbor.
Deep inside me, emotional tribute waves
gather, build and then rise in praise.
I feel the fuel of my soul’s veneration
as it revels in my Father’s creation.

My head and my heart harbor no doubt
that God comes here for any timeouts.
The oldest, tallest and most sturdy trees
are the lakes and mountains strong trustees.
Each flaunts an assured, confident attitude
for they have long lived their attributes.
I watch these trees with my soul’s eyes
as each nestles clouds in lazy, velvet skies.

Trunks reddish to dark brown are superb. 
Such huge trees dwarf mankind into a blur.
Ancient brown trunks are divine to behold.
I give thanks man left them undisturbed.
I would love to dwell in this forest’s folds.
A simple cabin would serve my fantasy.
Each day I’d visit a different brown tree,
absorb them one by one, most happily.






November 2, 2016

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