To notice birds prattling on about their day – a conversation I will never understand.
But they
Still chirp and sing and shake
Their tiny feathers
Just like the trees wave through
Their leaves on windy days.
To see the long-legged brown spider
Just barely hanging on
From my long meter stick.
And not be sick,
But see how slick
His webbing is –
It’s like a trick.
But they, the spiders, are known acrobats.
I wonder if they just appeared at once,
Or slowly let the evolution do its dance
And shape their tear-drop bodies.
I gain my life, through every day. With every eye
On blooming flowers, bright pink powers
On bushes, from which hangs the berry dark.
With every ear that is prepared to hear
The silence of how nature flies.
With every hand that on a leaf just gently tugs
Or is ever so gently conquered by
One of those bugs.
They are just mere crumbs, when we, humans, are the ones
That tower over. A lonely clover
Is perhaps, as much a shield for them
As our minds are for us.
That yearned protection may suddenly crumble
Forcing all those little ones to constantly stay humble,
While fighting up until the very last
Drop of everything that they so wholly trust.
They really are like us.
Where nature thrives is where my soul drives.
Where my heart gently lies
Upon the fields with green grass, horseflies.
The bright and scary hornets,
Luxurious colourful butterflies,
All which props up our trust in nature,
Inviting us on a necessary adventure, which we cannot escape
Our eyes agape, but missing all the details.
Not one is prepared
For all those tiny slithers.
Finding the one true, undeniable power – that search begins,
Only once it seems to us
That there’s no going farther.
Forgetful promises to our Mother and Father
Come to an end, once we
understand that there isn’t another.
Another life, another chance, another slot. Not even another glance
At what nature has got, once it is all over.
Our thoughts and impulses may just control us
Right up until our focus isn’t on our little clover.