The Part We Play

As the wind rustles through the sycamore trees, It brings such a peaceful spirit that hovers over me. It’s like the words spoken from a million foreign tongues, Hypnotizing and luring is the rhythm as the song is sung. Ten thousand leaves all move in perfect harmony, As the trunk sways gently so majestically. And the little brook that flows by this little forest of trees, Babbles it’s own little song not affected by the breeze. And standing on her banks is a young whitetail doe, Just looking around not caring which way to go. It’s so peaceful out here it’s like life has slowed down. Things are so beautiful when mans not around. It seems like what ever God creates we have an obligation to mess it up, We act more like an unruly and disobedient spoiled little pup. We’re not in tune to nature we never were, We are like the Vikings we’ve ravaged and pillaged her. As long as we are comfortable no matter the cost, It doesn’t matter about tomorrow or if it is completely lost. So who do we blame if tomorrow doesn’t show. It really could happen but who really knows?