23 April 2019
Some poems are a ramble… Like this one. Sat down and this is what I got.
Nature is persistent in the way She gives
There is not a moment when the giving stops
Not a moment when Nature is ceaselessly
recalibrating where she will unleash Her elements
to make beauty or lay mayhem.
If the Sun isn’t shining here, it is somewhere else
If it’s raining here, it isn’t somewhere else
A draught means there is a flood, somewhere else
And endless conspire to do as She pleases.
Displaying Her might and sovereignty
wherever she Will.
There is no fooling Nature,
There is no controlling Nature.
There often is no rhyme or reason
Nature does not need us to thrive
She privileges us with her allowance
in tolerating our insipid taking
from her with giving little if any
We are a dis-ease on her
May we learn to ceaselessly
honor her before she does
a back flip and we’re gone