Country Down

Death of nature

A cool breeze blowing,
prairie flowers like flames.
Wild turkeys I hear gobble,
Mother Nature setting her stage.

The call of a whippoorwill,
breaking the silence of dawn.
In the distance bucks are rutting,
then come the cry of a fawn.

A gentle brook trickles,
on flagstone like glass.
The sweet smell of honeysuckle,
under a sun shining like brass.

An odd jagged hole appears,
so barron and marred.
Very out of place here,
Mother Nature is scarred.

Something so perfect,
made by God's hand,
smells now of oil and diesel
landmarked by man.

Turning to go back the way that I came,
I cannot forget the sight.
All of the beauty that now remains,
soon will suffer the same plight.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I love your poem becuz you use fresh imagery from nature to set a vivid stage before introducing the tension into your story in verse. I am reminded of several drastic oil spills -- off the Santa Barbara coast when I was going to college there & the beaches were a mess for 10 years. Can't forget the Valdez in AK or the Deepwater Horizon in the Gulf. I still mourn the destruction of these oil spills. But your poem could also represent whatever particular events are closest to the reader's heart. I love the combination of strong poetic expressions, along with having something distinct to say (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie