Nature
For what is the nature of the beast
That comes with fiery breath to steal the feast
And then, upon the morrow, floods the fields
Thus rotting on the vines what summer yields
And yet with gentle tones, A subtle breeze
Can fill our hearts with joy and make us sneeze
Call forth from hidden caves a will to live
And in our joyful hearts the beast forgive
For we are but the pawns with which she plays
Her fickle nature changing with the days
At sunrise she’ll beguile us with her glow
At sunset chill our hearts with winter’s snow
She bears no malice, her moods defy our reason
For her it’s just the whimsy of a season
9/20/2021
“N” poems, New or Old Poetry Contest
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