t scuffing toe in dirt and beaming
Autumn Morning
Rebirth comes
not in
budding branches and
fresh new green
but in a
bold sudden
tympani of color,
russet and gold and flame.
Not in the
gentle warmth,
spreading slowly outward
after the thaw
but in the
crisp snap
of air made new,
respite from the heat.
Yay, Teppy!!! That's fantastic.
Oh, I remember liking that one. Congratulations!
I remember that one, Teppy. Well done!
t blowing trumpet
(Beaming along with Teppy, 'cos I lurves my Teppy)
I have characters named Foo, Bar, and Baz. Because I am too tired to look up proper names. How tempted am I to leave them that way? There poor Foo is, stumbling around a quasi-Serbian Ruritania, wondering why everybody giggles when he introduces himself.
Hee, that's funny, Betsy.
Go you, Teppy! That's really incredible, and it's a lovely poem.
Congratulations Teppy! That is a beautiful poem. I can't believe it is one of the first you ever wrote.