A summer’s day when all of nature grins
turns vixen when the wind begins to blow.
Then all her shiny leaves fall in a spin
while in her waters lurk bold undertow.
When nature’s beauty turns from sprinkled rain
to monsters of intense, repeated roar
an angry, churning beast may cause us pain
as all our roots upturn from nature’s floor.
So slight the sound; that aftermath of storm.
A blanket smothers all the torn terrain
and silent lies the land; a sight forlorn;
and gray as potter’s clay she may remain.
Bold nature cries “No Mercy!” as she reigns
nor words to challenge who made such a change.