The raven's beak smashes into the eggs,
to eat up the yolk and take one for the road,
for his mate who distracts the humming-birds,
by flying close to the nest and causing distraction.

By the time the hummingbirds realize,
what's left in the nest is a yellow slime of a mess,
their babies lost to the hunger of these evil birds,
smart, intelligent and as cold as their deadly eyes.

darken sharp wings and no love in their eyes,
they'll snap up anything that can easily die,
worms, insects, eggs & the babies in the nest,
Satanic birds, be at your wariest.

Late afternoon, caught between the grip of night and day,  
I lie here, drifting in the soft current of my thoughts,  
listening to the rain perform its solo,  
a steady, unhurried melody tapping the windowsill.  
The trees are on their feet, swaying to the beat  
while the sky pounds out its drums,  
a little gloomy, like a mood that’s settled in for a while.

But I don't mind—it’s chilly, sure,  
but there’s always a blanket handy,  
and a hot cup of tea if I’m feeling fancy.  
The show reaches its crescendo,  
each instrument—wind, rain, thunder—growing louder,  
like nature’s band is playing its final number.

The wind, like some wild soloist,  
whistles into the night,  
and the rain, with a little more bravado,  
sings its heart out.  
The sky, well, it’s thundering now,  
making sure no one forgets its role.

It’s a storm, a performance so intense  
you can almost hear the crowd holding its breath.  
And then, as quickly as it began,  
the storm takes its bow,  
leaving behind a scene of broken branches and soggy lawns.  
The audience, too, seems to weep  
in the aftermath,  
as though they’re mourning the end of something grand.

But that’s the thing with nature’s orchestra—  
you know it’ll come back,  
with or without an encore.

There are two kinds of creatures in this life;

the most attractive creature, is a man mindful of your feelings:
considerate of your emotions, making you feel truly valued,
and respected— who listens attentively to your thoughts,
and concerns but also responds with genuine care, and
understanding.

And the dumbest creature, is a man who instead thinks
with his second brain: not much thought needed there.

I’m standing here, staring at a tree  
with its roots buried deep, like an old memory  
that’s lost its sense of time.  
The leaves tremble a little in the wind,  
as if remembering all the storms it has weathered—  
the lightning strikes, the floods,  
the nights so quiet you could hear the soil sigh.

It didn’t ask for any of this,  
just like you don’t ask for a lifetime  
with its little joys and little sorrows,  
its moments of pure joy  
and the long stretches of rain  
that seem to last forever.  
But it stands there, unflinching,  
as though it’s accepted something we all know  
but can’t quite face:  
nothing lasts.

And yet, there’s a strange beauty in that,  
like when you look at your reflection  
in the dark window of a train  
and see a life already passing,  
but you don’t look away.

Now the tree is older,  
its bark a little worn,  
its branches reaching out,  
as though it might hold onto the sky  
a little longer, just in case.  
And when it finally falls—  
as all trees do, eventually—  
it won’t regret the winds it fought,  
the sunburn it endured,  
the way it held on to every raindrop  
like a secret.

There are saplings around its base now,  
little versions of the tree,  
still stretching toward the light.  
And in that way, it doesn’t quite leave,  
but remains,  
in the quiet memory of what once was  
and what is still to come.

There's a light in the clouds
Pushing through the rain
Only the waterfall's loud
Now, there's no hurricane
The birds return to their songs
After an absence of blue skies
Spring replaces the winter long
Harmony over past silent cries.....
Hares play in the long grass.
Lions bask in the warm sun
How long will serenity last
How long will warmth be cast.
Rhinos bathe in the nearby spring
Platypus splashes as he swims
Warm embrace of spring's return
The animals are the ones to confirm...

Deer, never learns a lesson,
since spawn of the fawn,
gentle eyes, can't manage our skies,
gentle strokes and we lose within.

A manic toddler brushing all sin,
an animal though has no conscious
but a belly rub doesn't go un-noticed,
never noticed silence in gum trees.
Strands of hair, giggles in breeze,

Child can't anticipate arrows of  death,
the last tug out, draws a last breathe,
A boy to a man or instinct's a monster
move forward with a war monger's roster.

Nature is not your ally
she has nothing to do with one person’s actions or feelings
she didn’t ask for your permission
or rather yet your opinion
whether you love her flaws or not
you have to accept what she does
and that also concludes her final decision
for what she wants to become next