Mother Nature Owns But One Canvas
Mother Nature Owns But One Canvas Once more I amble into Her indecisive stroke of hues – a coat atop scraped dye; for how could She possibly chuse? She must feel it welling inside, up and out ‘til She’s enormous – then with hands giddy and speckled, I see Her colours splash ‘pon us: This time Her clouds caress the Earth and hum a tune for all the trees – who merrily nudge each other, singing, “‘tis a sight to see!” Beneath many-a-waltzing bough frolicked the critter-folk about – whose eyes too veiled by novel glee instilled in me a seed of doubt. Did the wing-ed care not, like me, of how fleeting this Spring would be? Their songs unfettered by worry, while I await Her next decree. In those moments I held my breath, bracing to lose this passing bliss – but in my hands she set her brush and bestowed upon me a kiss.