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.