“MY” Forest Primeval

Ensconced on a metal chair of questionable comfort

I note with satisfaction the joy to be had from a piece of ground in 

     ones name,

One bursting with growth and overflowing with greenery,

The expanse of grass (not too smooth in spots) causes cusses

     sometimes.

When the mower strikes a stubborn clod.

The spreading cherry trees with limbs touching the sod here and 

     there,

The grasping rose ramblers touring skyward in search of new worlds 

     to conquer.

Their dying blooms paling with the heat and the rain.

The old faithful ivy roams ‘long the turf, covering the black dirt with it’s

     itchy fingers.

The hedge trees parting with their short-lived blooms.

Nature’s lamp lighters starting to flicker (no doubt looking for an

     honest insect)

An infant peach tree destroyed by the frost,

A memorial to Nature’s schedule of life.

A willow, whose weeping boughs stream to the ground; forever sad,

     but beautiful in its woe.

Four soaring poplars parading their superior height,

Noble and unique in they’re individualism.

Here and there a catalpa with elephant-ear-like leaves, shading the

     lawn with uncanny accuracy.   

A dormant lilac bush sulking with inactivity.

A rose garden spasmodically blooming.

A trelice, once mighty, borne down by a mightier rambler.

Shows the trend of the times in vivid color.

While, above, the clouds loose a rumbling thunder and forked  

     lightning splits the air cavity in two.

Dropping its water with skillful eye.

To cool off the earth’s crust after a scorching day.

Leaden skies reflect a setting sun, casting neutral shades on the

    western horizon.

A picture perfect of Nature’s calm that should comfort man.

                                                                                                 (ed)