Mystery Tour of Nature

in #creativecomp7 years ago

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In the night season, my nostrils took in of the Scrub Pines.
I slipped through an archway that was guarded by Grape Vines.
Then all of my senses were in awe at the sight of Glade Shrines.

My eyes sought wonder upon a field for what there might grow.
I saw melons and carrots and also corn in a row.
The mystery was that there was some blood on the scarecrow.

Scarecrow-Beautiful-Image-Drawing.jpg
scarecrow credit

All the creatures of the woods and ground were there; big and small.
Bright fauna echoed each other like mirrors in a hall.
Life paused as a woodchuck sped on the grass to a stone wall.

An oval pond gave off an eerie aura so chilly.
Many cattails and lotus on the fringe looked quite frilly.
The mystery was there was a flower on the lily.

Field of Phlox.jpg
field of phlox credit

Just beyond was an entire colony of various Phlox.
The mat of flowers gave an arena for a quick red fox.
In a flash, the animal leaped over a pile of rocks.

Nature operates in beauty without any world codes.
She lets no one pass judgment upon rats, warthogs, or toads.
The mystery was that there was lots of moss on the roads.


moss on roads credit

Birth and death and the balance of all life forms are what reigns.
Flora and fauna have destiny running through their veins.
The sacred living soil flaunts its being in the vast plains.

A fierce wind and cold rain were enough to make me shiver.
It shook the forest that wood flew out as from a quiver.
The mystery was that there were branches on the river.

(height:160)
branches on river credit

While slightly wounded, there is nothing grander than a tree.
The king of plants housed a hawk family ever so free.
I watched the protégé leave the nest and fly to the sea.

The screeching said “There’s neither room for eagles nor my son.
Journey onward and upward to catch currents for Zion.”
The mystery was that there was hope on the horizon.

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Lovely writing you have shared today.

I wonder why so much moss on the road.

Perhaps the toad strode not the road.

But swam in yonder streem.

I always enjoy the wit of a poet who didn't know it.