mother nature
.
beckons
screams
flails
whispers
.
she knows
everything
except
how to die
.
.
.
.
A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
April 21st, 2012 at 8:58 am
thank goodness
April 21st, 2012 at 9:35 am
This made me cry, you’re amazing.
April 21st, 2012 at 11:01 am
i hope that she lives on…well beyond our meddling…
April 21st, 2012 at 12:40 pm
oh heck…and we give her gunshot by gunshot… and still she manages to survive somehow..
April 21st, 2012 at 1:30 pm
mother nature and me are often at odds. i beg, i scream, she ignores and wins in the end. it is a constant battle played out each season. you would think i would LEARN.
in fondest, Tilda
April 21st, 2012 at 3:13 pm
Where I live, in North Central Texas, there were 17 tornadoes in one day a couple of weeks ago. Remarkably, nobody was killed or seriously injured. I was in a tornado in 2000 (suffering no personal injury, just a couple of blown-in bedroom windows, thank God). Anybody who thinks they can lick Mother Nature has never seen a tornado.
April 21st, 2012 at 5:02 pm
And that’s why we love her!
April 22nd, 2012 at 6:23 am
So difficult to be a mother; cleaning up after spills, smiling through the disrespect. She knows all, and does what she must, but will not learn what she can never do. You well know our ancient mother’s whispers.
April 22nd, 2012 at 11:00 am
looks to me like she’s dancing in that image you captured. inviting you along – reaching out her hand. best to say yes and let her spin you round the floor a time or two.
April 24th, 2012 at 8:25 pm
And for that, I’m glad.