The way the sunlight causes shadows through the leaves.
The movements of trees on the breeze
sycamore seeds twirl in pirouettes
as they helicopter to the ground.
Hag stones form
magic is born
decaying ghosts of leaves
erosion flowing free
the changing of the seasons
the reasons of life and death.
Unexpected artwork of nature
forming then fracturing and breaking.
The caricature of a feather floating free
in the minds artwork free
as a bird in rapture
captured in a photo in my minds eye.
In the dark discarded night
When you wish you still had all your fight
You rest on a tear stained pillow
Outside your house the weeping willow
Kisses the river bed
Shedding it leaves
To those who still believe
In the magic of Mother Nature
We are caught in the rapture
Of our own dreams
Which filled our lives with polluted streams
We are jet black and hollow without nature
We are filled with jet black sorrow for our children’s children
Who cry for the earth which was borrowed and lent
and never meant to be spoiled
By our digital dreams.