by Leonard M Hawkes

On an autumn path
I know you best--
Yellow-green variegated
Oval lace,
And dry crystal
Pithy fruit--
Crispily squishy,
But worthless.

I knew you first
By Grandma's porch--
A mountain transplant--
Berries we hucked,
But treasured
Your round twiggy
Brightness as
Autumn booty.

And now in age
And from the
Valley floor,
I gaze upward
To the highlands,
See your color,
And of certainty
Know your Face;

Neither altitude
Nor distance
Diminishing the
Conviction of
Your testament--
Frosted witness
Of glowering
Storms of Winter.


Author's Note: Thank God, I'm a country boy.

Posted on 10/04/2002
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes

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