Dancing Cottonwoods

In moonlight glare,
Cottonwoods sing in the wind.
I see silvery branches, glowing.

Camp sits between the beauties,
near the sandy creek
running chilly and cold.

The Cottonwoods tilt their trunks,
waving their arms-back and forth
beneath the moon.

Heaven is here.
Dancing Cottonwoods,
creak their wooden limbs.

3 thoughts on “Dancing Cottonwoods”

  1. Hey Vernon,

    I would like to read your poem about the big oak. I mention Cottonwoods in a lot of stuff. I don’t know why I like them so much!? They’re just awesome!

    Reply

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