Notes About The Poem
This is my autumn memory from a visit to the Cottonmill Park in Nebraska.
Autumn at Cottonmill Park
Gold and ruby droplets
dripped
from the park's trees
that had once
glowed in green.
I drove along
the Cottonmill road
as I pulsated
with Autumn's bloodstream.
Summer's heat
was a dimming memory
as Autumn painted
fresh stories
with God's colors.
I pulled out
of the park
as nature's canvas
labored behind me.
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