They hated the snow she provided them
So they can build their snowmen.
They angered her, so she froze them in,
And they wished and prayed for the sun again.

She brought them light and butterflies
To hush their mouths and halt their cries.
They asked for roses, beets, and tangerines.
She cried to grow their floral dreams.

Her tears halted their outside time,
So they begged and asked for more sunlight.
She stopped her tears and obeyed their request,
And brought bees, fireflies, and sweat.

The flowers she brought gave them flus.
The bees she gave stung them blue.
The sun scorched and burned their skin,
So they begged and begged for the cold again.

She blew wind to cool them off.
She showed colors of brown and apricot.
She left leaves and pinecones around their house,
But they raked them up and threw them out.

They angered her, so she froze them in,
With hopes to never see them again!
She did everything they requested,
But they hated her no matter what she did.

Isn’t she lovely when she sighs in relief
And her breath twists and twirls the leaves?
After they burned her forest and left her in grief,
Mother Nature can finally breathe.

Lost at home drifting through the sea,
What once used to be thriving,
Annexed by unsighted debris,
The ice moved on feebly.

Nature has her magical ways,
Growing and changing the weathered days.
Despite the beautiful scenes she can provide,
Her magic is no match for mankind.

The ice wonders why it cannot fight.
It wonders why it has to survive.
As it floats around, it begs for the life
It once had in its past time.
As it is slowly shrinking in size,
The ice wonders why, oh why.

The ice’s foe enjoys his fun,
Living wildly under the sun.
The foe knows his materialistic behavior,
Does no good for him nor Mother Nature.
As the foe carelessly continues his unruly rights,
Why, oh why, wonders the ice.

With no defense, the ice moves along, hoping its past life will return.
The sky looked down at nature’s work. It too, mourned and yearned.
Slowly shrinking and passing by,
The ice wonders why, oh why.

I remember when it used to snow.
I’d stare in awe out my window.
‘You’ll get frostbite!’ I was told.
Now, I’m old and it barely gets cold.

I remember when it used to snow.
Even at night, you could see it glow.
The birds would leave, but now they stay.
Even they’re confused in these “winter” days.

I remember when it used to snow.
O my, wasn’t it beautiful?
My niece questions on the way to home,
“What did it feel like, the snow?”

Sometimes I sit and stare into the sky
and wonder:
Does anything ever truly last,
or do all things leave quietly
with the changing seasons?

I look to the clouds with gratitude
because I know one day
I won’t be able to see them again.

There’s a tenderness in their passing.
A softness in knowing
that beauty visits briefly,
then disappears like breath into air.

I sometimes find myself
caught between wonder and distance
watching something magical
while dissociating in my own mind,
aware, even as it unfolds,
that I may never feel this exact moment again.

That thought makes things sharper.
Makes them more fragile, more precious.
I don’t hold them tighter.
I just watch.
And let them pass through me
like light through glass,
leaving a trace,
but never staying.

Maybe that’s what it means to live:
to witness beauty,
to feel the ache of its leaving,
and to still look up at the sky,
thankful for what remains.

a noble mole.  what dribbles **** a chin
lickable fungus glowing martian pog?
Al Addin's lamp (ummm...) frıght night of the djinn
whilst gripping chokes a chickensmoke some smog:

the summersmell of blacktop picks a long
boogery nose that smells a little silly.
a ******* wonderbabe removes her thong
sunsh¡ne and sits as pretty as a lily

and yet: the interstellar shift of sky
that breaks the ball of e art h & leaves it flat
for thunderbirds that birdshift flying by
the troll that eats with relish someone's brat.

an awful machine sits upon a dish.
lettuce a leaf  .make ye a daisy wish