Bird singing gayly
The sun's warm touch on my nape
The smell of fresh, wet earth after a days old outpouring
A feeling of solace as I sit alone
The hills odd patchwork of red dirt and light green grass
For the grass clings violently to the soil as if extinction is near
Trees dot the landscape in various sizes, a lone reminder that life persists and attempts to survive
The pavement separates nature and humanity
Building jut out t proclaim their dominance
Automobiles reaffirm mans place on earth
A row of scrawny, thin, tall, hard-bristled trees stand solemnly on a lonely hill
A bush of red flowers of unknown origin hug the brick of a far building, alongside blooms a light pink bush with plumes thrust in every direction
A dry culvert speaks loudly and abuses its use, for it is dry, always dry, cracked, and useless
It bridges only land, dry dirt - pointless
A gazebo stands empty, begging for company, perhaps a couple of lovers to entertain it, to sit, and keep it in use
It beams want to hear the wooing, its seats wants warmth
It offers comfort and privacy, the seclusion, and enjoyment of such a fine spring day
It's old timbers creak in pain from the loneliness
The whole landscape is quiet and seems almost forlorn by the emptiness of it all - bleak
But nature has patience and stands the tests of time, remains steadfast in its will to survive, regardless of mankind's deliberate abuse of it
Or perhaps it is I who is empty, lonely, violent, near extinction, solemn, abusive, useless, forlorn, and bleak, yet steadfast and clinging to survive
Perhaps I am the trees or grass
Perhaps I am the clouds or rain
Perhaps I am the hills or the gazebo
Maybe I am a patchwork of them all
Or maybe I only wish I could be
(An observation at Frank Phillips College in Borger, TX)
Written by Amy E. McCoy (5-9-06)
