Nature. Poems - Poems about Nature.

the wood was too green above the flames the sparks danced the fire gave its warmth ...

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The thunder rolls across the sky, right after the flash of light spreads across the horizon, and it echoes… echoes… long and rumbling. Its deep bass crashes and shakes our very foundation. The accompanying wind blows menacingly, and the falling rain becomes a stinging downpour. The once tiny droplets now becoming a raging river, washing away at the earth, as it tries to sink into the...

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It’s ninety one but feels like more, Like I opened up the Devil’s front door. He said “Come on in!” with a fire breath grin Now I’m sweatin' places I ain’t ever been. The sidewalk’s cookin’ eggs on the sly, Birds stopped chirpin', too hot to fly. Even my dog gave me that judgmental look, Like, “Take me out again and you’re...

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1 Aged bench under apple tree shadows _ Father’s Day 2 crack-made lines a dancing figure _ the broken cup 3 sweat bowl surface meets moist air _ beads of water 4 from henhouse to summer grass _ the rooster _____________ 21 June 2025 ...

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She lay down among the verdant wheat listening to swishing overtures, supine, eyes slightly closed; relishing the blue of a spring sky wishing she were the white cloud that appeared out of nowhere... envious of the free spirit she could have been. ...

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I love to see the wild flowers, How they blossom and bloom, I could watch them for hours. Each and every one is unique, Leaves of green, Petals so delicate, Gently swaying and dance in the breeze, Soft whispers can be heard, Surrounded by woodlands and beautiful trees. Wild flowers appearing, Brightening up dull areas, everywhere, They...

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The sanguine sun just waved goodbye and hides in the silhouettes of hills in wilderness; But, I still stand here between the line that separates night from day; No phone in my pocket only my own, my own weary self escaping from the city's endless hustle; To slow down, that is my aim . Hence, I am here. But little did I know,...

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They hang like a beaded curtain in a fortune teller’s parlor, each buoy a bauble from the sea’s own trove— sun-faded, barnacle-bitten, unstrung from nets that once strained tides for omens. Now they sway in the wind, rattling secrets and guarding the doorway to elsewhere. Who dwells behind the curtain— a castaway witch, perhaps, who brews fog in mason jars and weaves seaweed into...

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( ) ...

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Iridescent green hummingbird gone before I could speak ...

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Polly Pleasance was seven years old, like the decade soon is going; She had so many pretty dollies, like deep purple pansies, showing. Polly took care of her dear friends, for love's always taken seriously; Buying doll clothes with her allowance, like night, adorned deliriously! They were admired, and the envy of friends. She had so many dolls! As magenta...

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spirally coiled shell crawling across the sidewalk two tiny feelers ...

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serene in repose present in awe to the haves moving from the wants ...

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Mother Nature Teaches via Geese m i g r a...

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~s~t~o~r~m~ clouds m on trees e l ...

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