Whilst sun rays beam,
on this longing cement,
Grass and nature perk,
leaning towards goals,
waiting for rain in drought,
As dry as deserts,
Like gunpowder to a musketeer,
Dry, explosive in heat,
Skin and fur are touched,
by her light feathery reach.
Soul and hearts enter zones,
of tranquility and peace,
Blackest of seas,
Appear as turquoise overtones,
Yearning over this land,
we call home,
When its truly her house,
of sanctuary, her humble abode,
Birds sing harmonic tunes,
through gaps in trees,
Minds are opened,
like gates to a throne,
Separated,
From a plethora of clouds,
That weigh us down like anvils.
Within our persona,
we expect greatness,
over uncontrollable forces,
But she grins and laughs,
like a sinister angel,
of giving and forgiving,
All the while,
Earth remains spinning,
She sustains extant,
And keeps us living.