In her poetry, my aunt showed an affnity for Autumn. Images of turning leaves appear in many of her poems, and this one is devoted to the season.
by Veneta Donaldson
The morning breaks at my heart's door
And offers wealth beyond compare —
A mist that shines upon the earth
Like gems that bind a woman's hair;
A cloud inlaid with ivory,
Enchanting as a minaret;
A sound from scarlet, feathered throat,
Sweeter than that of castanet;
Sun-burnished leaves along a path,
More beautiful than purest gold.
Throughout my life's swift span of hours
May Autumn share its wealth untold!
This is part of a group of poems by Veneta Donaldson. A brief bio and the beginning of the series can be found here: Veneta Donaldson: A Poet in the Family.
Additional poems are continued here.
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