Nature takes back.
The patience of a saint.
For time to pass.
Every so slowly.
Then it reaches in.
And takes back its own.
Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton
The trees have been hurt,
Scarred by the recent storm.
Their leaves have fallen,
Fallen soldiers of nature’s war.
Without a proper burial,
No one will mourn for them.
New leaves will soon sprout
And take their place.
The cycle will continue
Through time and space.
Golden Hour by willyam http://ift.tt/2aItg9O
Lined up like sentries.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Eying the shore.
Storm at their backs.
Wind at their sides.
Sun setting above.
Sea ripples below.
Clouds rush in.
Skies open up.
Water rains down.
Quiet reigns supreme.
They quicken their tempo.
Winds pick up their speed.
They hit the sand with force.
A line of soldiers.
Shoulder to shoulder.
A PLACE OF FANTASY
A place of fantasy there must be,
Where blues and green merge in the deep sea.
Clouds create formations into works of art,
Resembling soft cotton balls splitting apart.
I raise my face to the sunshine of the day,
The rays shooting sparks as they frolic and play.
The sand is soft beneath my feet,
Warming my body with its heat.
Come with me and enjoy the dazzling sun,
We’re sure to have fun till the day is done.
The sand so pink and soft.
Keeps my spirits aloft.
The water so clear and blue.
I want to enjoy that too.
Sun brightening the day.
All I want to do is play.
ENERGY OF LIGHT
Light the night sky with your energy.
Waves of light to shock our senses.
Sizzling sounds to move our souls.
Darkness yearns to blacken the sky.
But the streaks of light persevere.
The moon lifts its face with a grin.
Thunder will be riding soon on its horse.
Mother Nature never misses a beat.
The light forewarns us of the coming storm.
Jagged fingers slice through the air.
A dance of the gods for mere mortals.
We hold our breaths as they sizzle and play.
The clouds keep them in place in defiance.
The ground rumbles in dismay at their power play.
The wind and rain fight to divert their direction.
Their aim is compromised by their enemies.
They hold strong and band together.
But the gods and nature block their path.
The earth is saved from ruin on this day.
But they’ll be back again another day.
The ocean roars its fury.
Arms lift in supplication.
Waves bend sharp rocks.
No boats dare the swells.
The sun hides.
Mist fills the air.
Will we be worthy?
Is mankind ever worthy?
Will the waters recede for us?
The answer lies in the ocean’s depths of despair.
We bow our heads and pray.
Nature is a sculpture.
A living, breathing sculpture.
It entices us.
It bemuses us.
It challenges us.
But most of all,
it inspires us.