The green leaves and the cool shade
the colors flash and last they fade
The stream runs through and wets the floor
of the greenish beauty the world adores
But...Do we ever stop?
To ask-Just how a drop
could grow to make a tree?
Where we sit and chirp,happy and free.
The answer lies beneath the shade
in the being hiding under the glade.
The sufferer of all our sorrows,
who does all to lend and borrow,
as long as the shining world above,
enjoys the fruits of the iron glove
of a skilled workman,ever ready.
To help the world,strong and steady
But mark u all,it does fight back.
And when it does shall u crack
at the hands of an elemental crone,
who lives in his muddy,encrusted throne.
The omnipresent,all-staking power of nature