the golden came
faithfully again to paint
pinetops as they gently sway
the glistening above
the reaching rays
autumn’s premonition
or southern grace
contributing to the
habitual change
of shades
just in time
as I was searching
for a place
to perch post-pain
to begin again
with syllabes
freeing my soul
to create
Laura Denise 
There is just something about the majestic pines of the south. Lovely poem.
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I agree. Being from the north, I was rather critical of their matchstick trunks, but their height and gently sway has had my soul swooning lately, especially when that golden light brushes their tops like Bob Ross. Ahhhh… Sigh…
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Indeed. I remember many nights growing up staring out the window at the ones in my front yard sway gently back and forth.
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Another lovely poem. You really are calling me outdoors with your beautiful words.
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I very much liked “a place to perch post-pain.”
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Sweet southern grace. Enjoyed.
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