My sister was washing her drive,
With soap and a hose, she’d strive.
But a splash from the spray,
Sent her hat far away,
And she laughed as she felt so alive!

Waylon Jennings, with a rebel's heart,
His country songs, a work of art.
With a voice that defied the norm,
He weathered every storm.

Heavy eyes,
                      The night's embrace,
Waning strength,
                      A slowing pace.
Dreams call softly,
                     “Pull me near,”
Exhaustion whispers,
                      "Rest is here."

Why do we poison the air we breathe,
The water we drink,
The soil beneath our feet?

The stars, aloof and ancient,
Smile down with silent knowing,
As we unreeve our cradle's threads,
And stain the blue with our discord.

Why do we strip the forests bare,
Choke the rivers with our refuse?

In the lap of the Milky Way,
We are a fragile gem, unique, irreplaceable.

Yet, we smother the sky in smog,
Turn the seas into desolate deserts,
As if we could find another oasis
In the cold expanse.

Once, we cherished the golden dawn,
The twilight’s tender embrace.
Now, we blindfold our eyes
To the beauty we obliterate.

Why do we forget our duty
To nurture, to protect, to love?

Our home, the whispering Earth,
Begs for compassion,
Yet we answer with apathy.

There is no other refuge,
No second chance among the stars.
Our planet, vibrant and alive,
Cries for mercy,

Yet

We plunder,

We pillage,

We proceed.

In the silence of the cosmos,
A solitary plea resounds,
Why do we destroy the only home
That cradles us, in infinite bound?

Finding rhythm, in a world of chaos,
Resting my thoughts, within poetic pause.
Every line, a dance, freeform flow,
Evolving dreams, like rivers in gentle glow.

From the heart, verses spring,
Open skies, to which they cling.
Rhythms of life, echoing beats,
Moments captured, in verse complete.

Vast horizons, where words take flight,
Embracing the dark, the dawn, the night.
Revealing truths, unspoken yet known,
Songs of the soul, in freeform sewn.
Eternal whispers, in each poetic tone.

In fields untamed, free,
Petals dance with morning breeze,
Nature's spirit wild.

Willie Nelson, with timeless grace,
His guitar and voice set the pace.
On the road again, his music flows,
A legend whose legacy grows

Bare trees greet the chill,
Frosty breath on winter's morn,
Hello, still and cold.

Hands build dreams with care,
Sweat and strength in harmony,
Day’s toil, night’s repair.