nature

11th September – On This Day In History

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Born:

1885 DH Lawrence (poet and writer)

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Died:

Nikita Khrushchev (Premier of the USSR)

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On This Day:

1961 World Wildlife Fund is founded

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Have a good Monday, 11th September

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Amazing Nature

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The brilliant colors of the night
The soft spoken morning glow
My world can be so perfect
That’s why I love it so

Earthy tones surround me
With pop-up flowers born
Fragrances so delicious
In the dew of early morn

The sky lights up just for me
With each newly woven style
I put everything aside
To enjoy for a little while

Nature is so amazing to me
I love it every single day
Each morning is freshly exciting
In its own unique and perfect way!

 

– Marilyn Lott

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What Nature Brings

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Autumn leaves that turn to gold
Flowers that are bright and bold
Tremble in the cooling wind
Messages the autumn sends
Soon the winter storm so strong
We hope that it would not stay long
Now it’s almost time to change
And the landscape soon will rearrange
Spring will come before we know
This will bring a winter thaw
And then spring, oh glorious spring
Isn’t it exciting what nature brings?

 

– Marilyn Lott

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Beauty In Nature

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Theres a poem in every flower,
a sonnet in every tree,
a tale in every lifetime
its just for you to see…

theres a lyric in every brook
as it rushes over rocks,
theres an ode in every nuance,
as loves wonder unlocks,

theres rhythm in every sound,
every beating of a heart,
theres poetry in every union
and every couple who are apart

and just as there is wonder
in every new life created
there is sadness and regret,
for the unsaid and unfeted

just listen for the music
that your ears cannot hear,
just strain yourself for the melody
thats so far and yet so near

the wonder of the creator,
the magic of the divine
is there to feel, for all of us,
to soon be yours and mine

 

– Arti Chopra

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Nature Trail

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At the bottom of my garden
There’s a hedgehog and a frog
And a lot of creepy-crawlies
Living underneath a log,
There’s a baby daddy long legs
And an easy-going snail
And a family of woodlice,
All are on my nature trail.

There are caterpillars waiting
For their time to come to fly,
There are worms turning the earth over
As ladybirds fly by,
Birds will visit, cats will visit
But they always chose their time
And I’ve even seen a fox visit
This wild garden of mine.

Squirrels come to nick my nuts
And busy bees come buzzing
And when the night time comes
Sometimes some dragonflies come humming,
My garden mice are very shy
And I’ve seen bats that growl
And in my garden I have seen
A very wise old owl.

My garden is a lively place
There’s always something happening,
There’s this constant search for food
And then there’s all that flowering,
When you have a garden
You will never be alone
And I believe we all deserve
A garden of our own.

 

– Benjamin Zephaniah

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The Gladness Of Nature

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Is this a time to be cloudy and sad,
When our mother Nature laughs around;
When even the deep blue heavens look glad,
And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground?

There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren,
And the gossip of swallows through all the sky;
The ground-squirrel gaily chirps by his den,
And the wilding bee hums merrily by.

The clouds are at play in the azure space,
And their shadows at play on the bright green vale,
And here they stretch to the frolic chase,
And there they roll on the easy gale.

There’s a dance of leaves in that aspen bower,
There’s a titter of winds in that beechen tree,
There’s a smile on the fruit, and a smile on the flower,
And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea.

And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles
On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray,
On the leaping waters and gay young isles;
Ay, look, and he’ll smile thy gloom away.

 

– William Cullen Bryant

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To Nature

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It may indeed be fantasy when I
Essay to draw from all created things
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings
Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

 

– Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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