Marilyn Lott

(5-28-42 / Washington state USA)

Nature’s Red Dirt Touch


There’s nothing quite like
A walk on nature’s red dirt trail
So much beauty we touch
So many stories to tell

A meadow of spring flowers
Cheerful with their shade of yellow
A longhorn out in the field
Oh, what a handsome fellow

A barn faded and worn with age
Still able to stand up through time
We continue down red dirt roads
So many of nature’s treasures to find

And then we see in out in a field
Beautiful Elk gracing peacefully
Yes, a nature walk is something
That we all need to see

So when you have some time
To put aside your work and such
Put on some comfortable shoes
And enjoy nature’s red dirt touch!

Submitted: Saturday, November 17, 2007
Edited: Monday, April 25, 2011
Listen to this poem:

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Nature’s Red Dirt Touch by Marilyn Lott )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. HELPLESS, Soumita Sarkar Ray
  2. A piece of my ground, Soumita Sarkar Ray
  3. Tick Tock, Michael Mira
  4. Love Burns, Khairul Ahsan
  5. Whispers, Mihaela Pirjol
  6. For Your Family Pride, Are You Going To .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  7. The Tears of A Woman, Who Can Underatnd .., Bijay Kant Dubey
  8. Love Is A Groovy Thing, Electric Lady
  9. I Think, tallulah montegue
  10. Fill Free, Teye Wayoe Ebenezer

Poem of the Day

poet Edmund Spenser

Of this worlds theatre in which we stay,
My love like the spectator ydly sits
Beholding me that all the pageants play,
Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.
...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]