Gnarled roots are my sinew. Mountain ridges are my spine. Buried channels full of wet darkness are arteries feeding tissues of sod. The grass is my skin, the forest-- my crowning glory. I lie beneath the loving sky; a teasing companion. The wind is her breath, The stars and sun and moon are her charms. our children, the clouds are creatures of fancy; dark and fair--churning with electric dreams.
I could be at peace--except for the gouging parasite that is man. His unnatural order, his puny dirty cities make me itch.
Man has been itching since we left the Garden, where all things were made perfect by God's hand until until temptation left us all wanting and scrathing our heads wondering why! Great poem Lee!
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.
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.
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