I hear the stillness of streams,
what can be purer and pinker
than the sincere sight and splash
of our mother nature, the wildlife?
what can be lovelier than its love?
My heart and hands are happy
and healed by graceful gardens
that restore, reign and rave
in my soul, on the horizon,
in the landscape of wonder!
Nature has a way of nurturing
my spirits and planting, pruning
greens of calm in my dizzy, dozy eyes;
I’m fond of fun outings and sightings,
my soul strolls into spaces of the wildlife.
It does so to energize and conscientize,
to preach of the preciousness of flora, fauna;
to poetize about how poems can conceal, conjoin
with the purity and personification of the high sky,
to let its pureness pour out of peace, poetry and people.
I hear the self-defeating, deafening dins of humans,
as if it’s not bad to burn fossil fuels, to go on sprees
of bush burning, illegal gold panning, sand winning, logging;
mother nature’s health is affected adversely by water pollution,
mother nature’s happiness is taken away by acts of deforestation,
there is an odor of toxicity, a sight of impiety, a feel of death, decay.