Wastings

A hint of sadness rises high up in the trees whispers of goodbye ride each breeze. Green leaves fades to paler shades hues of yellow, oranges, reds displayed as the autumn mists begin to wain. An end to the summer warms thundered lightning, brief rain storms and now the earth rests in its sleepy yawns. Unclear blended whisperings haunt the day, with hidden messages floating on the wave of the once calm seas writhing in the craze of tropical storms and hurricanes soon made. The earth awakes grumpy to its inner frustrations to reveal its anger and its lack of patience with man's abuse and natural wastings. It cries and weeps at the plunder and the waste of man's remolding it in his haste devoid of thought or consideration of this sacred place. The world evolves, renews and rebuilds unaware of the blessings it freely yields allowing man to plunder every open field.