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Found poem #2
October 19, 2012
Shade had fallen by deep green pools,
Climbing up slopes hilltops of Gabilan mountains,
Rosy sun left mottled sycamores,
Smoothly glided twisting water snake,
sycamore leaves turned like a wave,
Dry, brown, silver sides leaves,
Ground scudded, flowed up wind waves,
Tiny waves frantically died quickly,
Gust drove and sounded rush of wind,
Motionless swallowed plucked heron.
© Susan R., Iselin, NJ
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