Autumn creeps into the Blue Ridge Mountains,
nature dips her paintbrush
into a bucket of gold
and highlights the walnut leaves.
The morning sun shimmies
through the tree-filtered light,
three white-tailed deer
forage in the cornfield.
On Brasstown Bald,
the buzzing of cicadas,
males shake their drums;
each makes its own song.
Golden rods sway on a breeze,
stars shine in dusty lilac asters;
beneath the Full Harvest Moon,
katydids saw their fiddles.
Brenda Kay Ledford
I give my sister, Barbara, credit for doing research on cicadas.
I wish my blogger friends a happy and beautiful fall!
Brenda
9 comments:
Beautiful fall scenes and verse.
Thank you Brenda for this lovely poem. Lots of fall yellows and purples around the hay fields.
Lovely poem, Brenda! I especially like the "shimmie" of morning sunlight through the trees.
Excellent.
Have a great weekend!
Toni
How beautifully your poem tells of this lovely time of year. For several days, when I took my late afternoon walks, the cicadas' songs were almost deafening, but now that the heat has returned they are hushed.
Your photographs are beautiful and your poem delightful! We hear the cicadas play here, too, believe it or not.
Happy fall, Brenda! Your photos and poem capture the season perfectly.
You've opened my senses to the drum beat of the cicadas and the brilliance of the Golden Rods. Thank you for your vivid painting in picture and verse.
bvlw
Such lovely golden rod! The tree is just stunning.
Love, love your poem!
Cicadas are common here.......they stay in the ground for years and usually come up when the weather is a little more wet and cool.
Their buzzing song is always so loud!
Thank you Brenda. I love the poem and the pictures. I dearly love the mountains and now you have made me really want to make a trip there this fall. Dan and I used to visit the NC mountains every fall but it has now been several years. I miss seeing the beauty of it all.
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