MUSED
BellaOnline Literary Review
Eagle Landing by Albert Rollins

Poetry


My Kentucky in Spring

Bridget M Aubrey


Gently sloping emerald hills,
Old, gray fences brightened by daffodils,
Majestic trees ready to burst into bloom,
Strangers smiling and waving at me.
Thatís my Kentucky.

Gleaming horses peacefully grazing
Behind white fences,
Old, leaning barns speaking of tobacco and history,
Spring peepers voicing joy by the pond,
Young groundhogs nibbling on new growth,
Thatís my Kentucky.

Forsythia blooming against an old log cabin,
Surrounded by ancient maples in red spring splendor,
And the weathered gray schoolhouse nearby,
Bordered by a split rail fence covered in ivy.
Thatís my Kentucky.

The quietly rolling Ohio river carries coal
Away from these hills in barges,
While a bald eagle turns wide circles above,
Soaring on air currents invisible to me.
Thatís my Kentucky.

Along the creek watercress and forget-me-nots are flourishing,
And a blue heron stands statue-still on the glittering waterís edge.
The ancient mill is nestled between the wooded hills,
Where the sparkling creek works the creaky wheel.
Thatís my Kentucky.

Softly swaying cedar trees line roads like tin soldiers,
Decked in fresh, spring green coats,
And underneath velvety violets and bright dandelions
Celebrate their life with shiny faces.
Thatís my Kentucky.

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