Nothing can paint mother nature
just as she really is . . .
A bird or a twig is left out . . .
There is always something amiss . . .
The bellow of the frog in the pond . . .
The shade falling about . . .
and ants crawling in the grass . . .
Aren't some of those things always left out?
A chunk of ice floating down the stream . . .
may miss the artist's eye . . .
He may not heed a timid deer . . .
that is quietly slipping by. . .
And the poet's gaze is careless, too . . .
Many things miss her pen . . .
But the human eye that loves nature . . .
Hears, feels, sees all . . . from mountain to the glen!