A field, not a forest
of swaying red
of red sumac,
warming from yellow to red
in the fall air
warming in the mid-morning sun
red blood red sumac
with ripe fruit hanging heavy
below the red leaves
caught in the breezes
swaying to the rhythm
of the wind
October 7, 2007 2:50pm
(Raymond A. Foss)
More Poetry from Raymond A. Foss:
- Hearing their whispers (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Hearing the martyrs, the heroes (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Awkward Seasons (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Sow Peace (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Live Peaceably (Raymond A. Foss Poem)
- Listening to their grief (Raymond A. Foss Poem)