Raymond A. Foss Poems

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The flats, tidal,
far from shore,
reeds, grasses, rushes
morphing from green
golden tan, brown
the week before
autumn officially begins
Riding by, caught
peripherally, fleetingly
the world as we whizz by
glimpses of nature
following the call of the seasons
oblivious to human influences
our busy lives
Fed by the rising,
falling tides, the
alluvial, rich soil, guided
by the cycle of the calendar,
the pull of the moon,
swaying in the cooling air
as night blurs
shafts of light filtering through
the woods beyond the marsh

September 19, 2007 16:20

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