Of course she is beautiful.
That's why she's called "Mother Nature."
She rolls over marble rocks
And breathes through 100-ft. fir trees;
Singing in ripples through a little stream,
Thumping like wild Mustangs
Through an ochre grass valley.
Roaring crescendo seas on white-sand beaches,
Coloring her songs with colors uninvented.
Having hot flashes and her own cold sweats,
Somehow communicating her creator's wishes.
As tiny as honey bees and hummingbirds,
As grand as a peak no man will climb
As bright as a jeweled city lake's reflections.
Enveloping and cuddling and smashing,
And cutting,
Beloved.
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
Tom lives in Wyoming
Nature's Beauty
In my own simplistic ways and rudimentary ways of thought I have always looked at and taken Nature as the simple God given things that are all around; things that a lot of people never see and if they did would take for granted. But this August group has all seeing eyes; eyes as we remember our parents had, seeing and knowing the things, usually small things we did wrong.
The lone flower petal on a stalky plant in the dining room window or the sense of security as a thick, dense and heavy snowfall keeps us home for a few days. The thrill when a small green head popped out of the dirt in the spring.
The feeling and utter excitement of the first small flowers of spring; flowers popping through the snowfall; that sense of nature and knowing papa would soon be plowing the garden and worrying about getting his garden "in."
The thrill of your child's first words, so much hoping they will be to you and not to the other parent. The thrill and then quickly the somewhat remorse of those first steps.
A big cloud against a summer backdrop of green. Children playing and all of those little baby chicks that just hatched.
Not the grandeur of large and exquisite things, no not at all, just the everyday, the garden variety small innocuous things that strike or struck a chord in your soul and left an impression; most likely a deep and everlasting impression.
Who can forget the first chirp of the spring robin or the nagging chirp of the fall crickets telling us the summer is over?
So many things I took for granted and did not see as I went about my life and strived to attain and to advance. But late, much too late a shattered leg and having to sit did make me aware of many of the things I now cherish. Maybe the “slowdown phase” of one’s life was designed by a higher authority to make us “Stop and smell the roses.”
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)
