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