The poet calls Mother Nature a friend;
She reveals secrets of origin and end.
They spill unashamedly upon the page,
To last ad infinitum as epics of an age.
The rhymes, they echo shared friendship,
Tasting of maple syrup, honey on the lip.
They emerge from some deep inner cavern,
Later to be sung and applauded in a tavern.
The verses clustered together as strangers,
Boldly exploring the extent of life’s dangers.
The verses seem the torn rags of sentences,
Gemstone hidden in rock under broken fences.
Solemn sentiments soon will shed their light;
The words assume sparkle to disperse night.
A whisper captured, sudden flight witnessed;
Dawn light shines on leaf and grass blessed.
A bird lifts off in the morning and forever flies;
Hungry wolves howl, the ruined moon sighs.
Cold stars twinkle amid the shameless night,
To arrive once a day to remind us of midnight.
What are those smells that waft through the air,
Of honeysuckle and violets to ward off despair.
The poet reaches to take Mother Nature’s hand,
Then weaves into light her mystery most grand.
IF ANYONE CAN TOUCH MOTHER NATURE AND THEN TRY TO EXPLAIN HER...IT IS THE ENDOWED POET, AS YOU HAVE EVIDENCED IN THIS FINE WORK. WELL DONE, I LOVE THE STYLE AND RHYME SEQUENCE. THANKS FOR SHARING, JOHN. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS
Who invented Mother Nature?
Ever wonder about that?
Mother Nature aside, this is a fine poem to ponder on.
It touches the senses of sight, smell, and outdoor sounds of delight.
Amen
Explore the mystery of how nature makes unexpected gifts of creative wonders to an unsuspecting caregiver one late night and early morning in southeastern Georgia, USA.
Love ya!
Jane
Ever wonder about that?
Mother Nature aside, this is a fine poem to ponder on.
It touches the senses of sight, smell, and outdoor sounds of delight.
Amen