Grace of Thee
To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature
Not of humanity’s forethought.
Standing, shading my spirit sought.
Secure friend, mystical nurture,
Bold, vivid leaves shall not murmur,
Spring blossoms of leaves reddish hot,
Solemn red maple, all for naught,
Cherished sight, spreading lush fervor,
Upon our mountains, seen for miles,
Flaunting in wooded venues,
Staged forward in natures play,
Red maples bold posture beguiles.
Dressed for seasons in no recluse,
I behold her scarlet display.
written for
Sponsor ~ Constance La France ~ ~ A Rambling Poet ~ ~
Contest Name The Tree
written by
Cecil Hickman
Date written
04/20/2011 © ®
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