Nature
Restless shadows in the hills
Peeking through the sunlight
Stepping on the fallen leaves
A quiet, lingering autumn scene
Broken, lightning singed branches
Faint memories of storms past
The scene trembles with the wind
As wispy clouds gather strength
How many storms have passed
Flooding the streams and ponds
Spilling the soul of the earth and
Scattering it into the valley below
In time, slowly grows a mighty oak
A replica of one on the hills above
Wonderous, splendid landscape’s
Familiar yet, with subtle changes
In my poem titled Nature, the word “singed” means the same as burned.
Delia