We had hope as she closed us up tight.
Mama, will it hurt?
"Hush," on her lips and she sent ants to
kiss our anxious tears.
And she whispered
Just as we fall, so
We grow

Hues of green dance across the treetops,
Rolling hills meet dark shadows of the valley.
Beams of sunlight canopy the earth...
     radiating beauty,
     illustrating a serene landscape.
A mist blankets the cool air,
Fog pushes down as the trees fight to remain seen.

A figure appears on a bench,
     overlooking mother nature's art,
Still as a rock,
          statuesque and serene.
     Tranquil, quiet, somber.

A rhythmic pattern of breaths breaks the silence,
In, pause.
Out, pause.
In, pause,
Out, pause.
                    Steady, patterned, slow breaths...
          Synchronized with whispers of the unknown.
In, pause.
Out, pause.

The undisturbed calmness screeches to a halt!

The ground begins to crumble,
     Slowly at first...
     Quickly gaining momentum.
The bench and the earth become one as it begins its descent,
Mud and dirt,
Tree limbs and debris,
Brush and leaves,
               tumble down,
               melt together with the figure,
As the earth swallows it all,
     with one large gulp.

Mother nature claims another soul.

To hate family is to hate self.
for whether to admit, or not
they are us,
and we are them,
inexorably tied,
Our traits,
hopes,
desires;
us,
Blood,
Love,
carry through.

this is no reason to be distraught
it instead simply is.
mother nature does not stop
do not fear this
to over-acknowledge is to assume
you posses more than the man that stands near
what lies beneath is a part of her charm
she is ambivalent and could care less
she means to do no harm.
Therefore, where the feel of inherent flaws plague the mind
let go,
sit,
turn off all distractions
and give yourself time,

to

Ponder
not when you fail,

to

Think,
not when you fall
but pass, and
Rise
above and beyond
not in the eyes of the onlooker
but in the eyes of the self...

not in unwrapped spite,
but in benevolent unison

Family:
they are me
i am them!
through eternity.

It is morning. I glance up at the sky
I nod to her, acknowledging that she
knows the weather better than I

Our duels are unforgiving
She is graceful in her delivery
And I am left shoveling up the remains

Her coldness no match for my warmth,
my skilled hand. I create a path, boots
Weighted against the latticed snow

I remind her that though she has
a power to wield, I have my own

Perseverance.

Whilst the mist fall
Wiped the window
From this far I could see
Framed hanging picture
Not a modern art, amaze
A view, take my soul with
The talent to portray nature
The beauty, the naked truth
Once man's exploited mind,
Increased thrive for progress
Led to destroy the essence
The source he grew up
Found shelter upon, betrayed
He's ashamed now, to touch
With his bare foot or finger
To feel the poisoned mother
He's brave, to let her bleed
By his vicious weapons

Look...look-e here pause for a second before the seconds get near

the clock is dishonest and it cuts like shears.

I stare into the sky yet I do not fear

even if the end was near, I would be in the clear

Like visions that are translucent, let's mix it up like blood transfusions

don't think too hard just say you can do it!

what are drugs to a man using?

I call it addicted, my logic is gifted I'm on it, you're just with it

let me call a witness...to this lyrical massacre

my letters strangle the pilot, co-pilot, and passengers.

There belittled by small riddles am the verbal ambassador

My minds pickled so sick hospice...not hospital

my rhymes ripple as I watch the clock trickle.

Time is the enemy never stare at it...and if you look for too long...you will become an addict.

An addiction to numbers...one two three...along with others

Countless counts of time equal a waste of time so pause it, take your time.

A debate will rise ...to take equates to loss..we run,drive, and fly at any cost.

But there is only one currency...time is the coin of all eternity.

When the hands turn they move clockwise with certainty.

the counter clock is unwise certainly.

because it moves in contrast with urgency...

Father Time what is thee emergency? Mother Nature's calling she waiting for the earth to speak.

The first time
I heard them
I swear,
I was to listening
to the most beautiful choir
in four-part harmony,
swaying
or angles wings rubbing,
& perfectly, playing
a common file instrument
angled, such a unique sound
symphonic & splendorous
they are all around
this free concert
an offering of
Mother Nature
chiming at once
uncaged,
& calling on the ladies
in perfect unison  
sounding like church
telling one another
of sunlit hours
say the flowers
fending off evil spirits
allowing me to travel
into the dark again
leaping over obstacles,
alerting me to danger,
still in their silence
  I am protected
by this harbinger of luck
a most powerful portent,
of coming things
they sit silently in the quiet,
like a copper cricket weathervane,
as the poor man's thermometer
spinning tales effortlessly,
in the wind calmly
  watching over us
a shivering in the night
save you, are mine
my Native American totem
or God's Cricket Chorus
foretelling of Sorrow
of coming rains tomorrow
ex-lovers and death
a shrill creaking
stridulating in song

Oh, I fear that day,
your music should go away
please dear uncaged cricket choir
  I truly ....
   hope you'll stay.

Cherie Nolan© 2016