Bill Doggett Poet Iambic Pentameter

High Country Vale

Lush vales wedged between rolling foot hills
rugged mountain streams course through ancient vales;
water rapids breach rocks down on the dells,
vagrant pools wander out through worn edges.

Vivid odors punctuate water veins,
ripe with fertile grass, fruit and berry bogs.
Pristine secluded swamps, log aquilines
echoing native sounds, murmuring frogs.

Katydids call out a lusty affair,
as dusk settles to a vibrating night.
Fireflies flicker perfuming the air;
wild eyes reflecting moon lit flight.

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Frances King July 19, 2009 at 4:30 AM I can hear the gurgling of those streams, Bill! This poem satisfies all my senses, a real breath of fresh air - thank you, and very well done!