We tend to not appreciate it,
To ignore the calls of our winged friends,
To scorn the helpful and forgiving earth that holds the seeds of time,
To frown at the kind and sometimes harsh tears of the land,
To taint the once pristine surface with deception and broken promises.
As I sit, I feel the mournful wind as it carries the dry dead leaves to forbidden places.
I see the clouds frown and growl, their pallors darkening with bottled up anger , fuming , waiting, for an unforgiving outburst.
I feel a slight chill in the air , foreseeing a cold and ruthless near future.
Finally ,our winged companions flee, leaving us stranded in our selfishness.
Now I sit , and wait
Waiting for the sky to open with a smile of vengeance , to release upon us our well deserved undoing.
I raise my arms prepared for the blow , my last stand, but it doesn't come.
All that anger , all that sadness went as swiftly as it came, gone with the wind.
And out comes the sun , with its redeeming and forgiving light, Illuminating each surface , filling each recipient with a sense of regret , guilt
But that too becomes unimportant as we gather our tools of pain, prepared for another sunny day of betraying the forgiving nature as we swing , chop , throw away, deceive and manipulate like the cruel beings we've now become