Max L.

A stunted, scraggly tree sat amongst a few crumpled beer cans and soggy fast food wrappers in a small patch of greying and equally scraggly grass by the side of a highway somewhere in New England.

Perhaps this was inevitable, so flawed and warlike are we, though I beg any intelligent species who may find this to heed my words: Do not allow yourselves to be overcome by greed, hate or anger; live in peace as we could not.
 

Tsunami

A great wall of sorrow

Engulfing all in its path,

Rising from the earthquake of pain

Deep below the surface
A surface normally calm,

Broken only on occasion by

The rough seas of discontent

Ocean
A lonely sand castle sits on the beach,

The fruit of an unknown child’s labors.

The moisture in its gritty spires slowly evaporating

In the scorching heat of the afternoon sun.

The seashells adorning its sides