Tag Archives: nature poem

Brief as Butterflies

4 Replies

I awoke to rain today.

I will walk where water drips

From spring leaves and flowers

For time slips away

And all our little hours

Are brief as butterflies,

Who flit by without a sigh.

 

Birds and Men

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I leave the pub behind

And find

In the song of birds

The truth not heard

In the words

Of men

Who prate and hate.

 

 

So I listen to birds

And purifying rain

For there is no hate

In birds or rain.

The Church and the Tree

8 Replies

Touching this tall old tree

I wonder what feels real to me:

This church of cold stone

Where people go to show their religiosity,

Or this rough bark

Warm from the spring sun.

It is the bark

That calls to my heart

And this gentle sun.

I Love the Wood

6 Replies

I long for the wet woods

Where the rainy breeze

Is full of flowers and leaves

And the damp earth

Speaks of death and rebirth.

I love the wood

When birds sing after rain.

 

 

I will surely die,

And Mother Nature will remain.

But we are forever part

Of nature’s great heart.

Her vital cycle of birth,

Death and good earth.

In the Hospital Garden, in Early Spring

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In early spring,

In the hospital garden

No birds sing.

Or perhaps its me

With my thoughts of mortality

Who fails to hear

When they sing to men.
.

Copyright: Kevin Morris.

I Leave Dry Leaves

3 Replies

I leave dry leaves behind.

Yet, I find

Leaves still whisper to me

Of my mortality.

 

 

Often they sound the same as rain.

I will return again

For they are part of my heart.

And poetry may live on

When I am gone.

While the rain will remain

 

 

Useless Thought

1 Reply

6 degrees.

The air in the wood is good.

Leaves fall

And a Blackbird’s call

Follows me through the trees.

 

 

My mind should be still

But. Like a mill

I find my mind grinds

And the bird is only half heard.

 

 

Would that I could

Be one with bird and tree

But useless thought

Has it’s hold on me.

 

 

Yet, sitting here

I can almost hear

The Blackbird

And see the beauty of each tree

Which yesterday I failed to see.

August Storm

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This storm in late August

Has stripped many leaves from trees.

Twigs snap and crack underfoot.

 

 

All Augusts must fade to September.

And I remember

Autumn must come.

Satisfaction

2 Replies

The birds outside

Are so easily satisfied

With stale bread.

 

 

My dog loudly sighs

As he eyes

That tempting bread.

But none can pass

Through glass to grass …