To the Empire’s Fair Splendor
When mighty oaks bow
it is to the beauty of your autumn splendor.
From the orange and gold of maples,
to the shade of turning grapes.
From the level fields and rolling hills
that border Ontario’s escarpment
to the mountains of Allegheny.
From fingers trailing through a goblet of wine
to the shores of Erie. Here do mighty oaks bow.
This poem is my response to MTB: Opening lines … beginnings,
the prompt from Peter Frankis at dVerse ~ Poets Pub,
where the prompt is to write a poem with a striking opening line.
Maple trees dominate the landscape of Western New York (The Empire State),
their autumn colors far outshining those of the oaks.
Image source: pngio.com (edited here)