The Litchfield Hills
The winsome birches sway, their chalk white, black-stitched
trunks frolick in the Fall gale,punctuating the hillsides greenery
with lingering leaves lemon yellow.
The pointillist tapestry of pale ash,
purpled sycamore and tangerine maples, posed.
The Nor’easter’s downpour licks the rock face.
Granite cliffs glistened in the noon sun.
Waterfalls tumbled pell-mell over once dry precipices,
in gushing tinseled torrents of delight, as gullies
over-flowed into the route of ages.
Contest:Autumn Splendor
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 1/10/2009
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