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I’ve always held my creative side dear to me.
Cherishing every spur of creativity,
However I still took this feeling for granted.
When the stress of the word planted–
Mother Earth holds us all in her arms,
engulfing us in a comfortable beauty.
She keeps us safe,
as we travel around the sun.
She’s gifted us the oceans and lakes,
the mountains and hills,
The fire dances with the trees,
With no stopping, it spreads.
A horrific sight, indeed.
In the wake of this inferno,
Comments
Straight out of a dream! This is so pleasant to stare into: a mesmerizing web. There's something cute, too, about those three or four brown "I spy" leaves hanging on in there, amid the tangles of black and white branches.
Thank you!
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