This is a poem about the complexities of nature and man's place in it. The present writer's son, Steve Coonrod, is a co-author. Originally published in the Dec 2006/Jan 2007 issue of Coffee Press Journal. Rights to J. Donald and Steve Coonrod. Steve is pictured here.

Air’s soft pressure opens Spring as
life surges into roots buried in
darkness, reds and yellows rise up Van
Gogh-like on a canvas of such bruising
beauty we can only pretend to understand.

The green valley below expands in
sweetness, and bells ring slowly in
splendor that’s almost more than we can bear.

Life is suddenly honey, sugar sucking
soul of a thousand bees arching in air
and eagles flying carefree circles,
as their eaglets occasionally fall
from the nest, but nature knows best.

This outrageous symphony of life
shocks our senses, and all too soon
lies down once again as light creeps
back into the sun and trees darken,
leafless and black, and earth is cast
into crystalline cold, embracing a
darkness deeper than any loving God
could have foretold.