The Painted Lake
Curled leaves like little gondolasBob across the rippling waves.
Reflections of the forrest surrounding it
Fan over the silver lake like a peacok's tail,
Full and brilliant, but with the colors of Fall.
Golds and yellows, oranges and reds,
Tinted purples and stubborn greens
Crowd round the lake's rim.
The lake is Nature canvas,
The wind Nature's brush,
It strokes across the lake's surface
As trees pose in their Autumn best
The creation is a true water color
From God's own hand.
Poetry by Phyllis J. Rhodes
Read 725 times
Written on 2006-10-05 at 06:02




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