TOWN CREEK
Goldenrod waltz on the wind,
Tusquittee Mountains stretch their arms
to the crystal-cobalt skies.
The backwoods stream gurgles
over arrowheads the Cherokee Indians
carved at Spikebuck Town.
The poplar trees wave
their golden fans, the earth
cannot hold back fall.
Through the verdant valley,
beside an old-red barn,
the Town Creek murmurs.
She is just a brook,
no one looks up to her.
Wild geese honk in v-shape
above the Lake Chatuge.
Your waters, little creek,
are the heart of her soul.
--Brenda Kay Ledford
My daddy was a Baptist preacher. One of his wise sayings was: "Little is much if God is in it!"
3 comments:
This is such a beautiful creek. I could almost see the movement of the water. The words of the poem are so skillful chosen.
BVLW
The swift running water has such movement that I am drawn into the creek. You've chosen such powerful words to express this beautiful poem. BVL
Beautiful picture, beautiful words. Your posts always make me smile. I think back to those long ago days on our grandparents' farm is north central Mississippi. It was the happiest days and place of my childhood. Thank you.
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