Nature's Trove

Soft is sight when mists lie and hug the trees
Giving skirt and shawl to the forest's kin
Light is the dawn and gentle is the breeze
When morning light does whisk the wisps and fen.


Boulder Cracking thunder may blast a mount
To ash. Hot ocean lashing bolts of Jove
May steam and splash to bedrock the great fount
Of the sea. Nature has both in its trove.


The gentleness of a spider's spire
The Ragnarok of a Volcano's blast
The song of bird and the scream of fire.
All this have I known and loved, first to last.


For High and hot and sleepy as a babe
Have I all felt when in your arms I've laid.