Rich In Spirit
I saw them bloom
in emerald,glistening fields;
tall,dauntless and vibrant
searching for the sunniest sky:
to grow bigger than any other flower,
to be noticed by the incandescent sun;
but as the days grew shorter,
their vanity vanished in gloom...
the pitiful sunflowers wailed in twilight...
wondering if that was worth their cry!
I was delightfully walking under
the fragrant and tempting apple trees...
emerging from grassy,shimmering slopes
crossed by rarely traveled roads
that led to misty mountains:
when I spotted a multitude of sturdy men
cutting down the tallest timber!
Their unheard cries of agony
couldn't revenge that wanton of cruelty;
when greed overrides concern:
there's no room for compassion
or human sympathy!
At the age of sixteen,
I planted the smallest pine tree
by the sun-scorched foot-ball field...
where my many victories were
clamored by my peers;
and I patiently watched it
grow and suddenly gleam...
as this writer started to dream,
to value Nature's most prized jewels
he couldn't afford to lose,
or to be snatched from his reach,
to make him rich in spirit!
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2006
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