Nature’s Forces

Wild wind surging, urging, howling Showing strength in righteous anger Punifying man ‘“ his claim to power Roaring, ripping, tearing, tossing throwing, whipping, breaking blowing trees that stood once proud now in humbleness bowed to a power greater than that that holds their roots dugged deep in clinging, zealous earth These rip out to a power unseen yet as real as rock and steel So man is humbled hides and knows just how small he is and bows himself to a strength that’™s only just a tiny part of a giant hand that with might incalculate sweeps man his works, his pride his art so many things impermanent ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  into insignificance.

Meandering in a happy place I came, quite suddenly upon a wondrous scene down, down into verdant vale and hill – A magical place that belonged to God. A park – private within His world. Its beauty took my breath away; undulating green yet given seclusion by ancient trees. These stood like grand cathedrals made of wood Proud and tall of differing kinds Each beautiful to behold Some, with wandering arms, Sinewy and strong Were sentinels to this enchanted spot. Sunlight and shadow lent transient grace enhancing the colours in this paradise. In wonder I stood in saddened joy for knowing I’™d never again see this wondrous scene. However, etched in memory it would remain exquisitely mine Nothing would diminish …

The trees they search with a baleful eye A cloudless sky an open sky A pristine sky – so blue The days they are such glorious days Days for fun for everyone With a softer than a summer sun That burns and dries the lakes. Can this be winter? Must be so – are not the nights so chilled and cold It’™s after autumn too The trees they search with’  doleful eye For a sign – a cloud – to appear on high Whe’™re those wet – those billowy friends Heavy with life’™s life-giving drops Filling udders for the table tops?’ ‘ ‘  The trees they search and seek in vain for that life-giving fluid – a sign of rain And because …

Cumulous galleons sailing free In a pale blue sky so stately The setting sun turns grey to gold A wondrous dignity to behold The trees gently wave with envied eye: ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Farewell Golden Galleons of the sky

Two butterflies in crazed random movement – So swift, the eye could snatch of them but glimpses, As flashes of light of brightest hue Followed the one the other with butterfly’s ease Of reflexed energy; Easier even than the swift reflexes of the human eye, For both were lost to me within the moment; Hither- thither things on gossamer wings ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Or spirits, in the gold that autumn brings?