Tag Archives: nature
It flies lazily, in circles, above the kitchen compost bin. Its chestnut-brown tininess is nature’s deception. Its presence is a warning of a troublesome infestation.
It sits in the undergrowth, wings stretched out in the sudden, late afternoon sun. As I approach, it flits low over my path and disappears. My spirit is lifted by this reminder of nature’s constant presence.
It lengthens slowly across the colour-drained sky of dusk. A streak of fire, lit up by the orange sunset. A man-made peril rendered beautiful by nature’s change from day to night.
She kneels on a concrete path. The secateurs in her joined hands are clamped firmly around an old and stubborn rose stem. Determination on both sides makes her screw up her face. Woman versus nature on a garden scale.
The trunk stands straight against the stone wall, knobbly branches wriggling out. Bare as the winter wind, a skeleton exposed. Forced into unnatural lines, yet nature still prevails, in the willful waviness of the wood.
Cut off from its body, it still blooms green. The veins that carried life to its heart continue to rise, full and ready. But in one corner the whiteness of death begins to crawl and curl, as nature’s recycling begins.
In Autumn, it gladly shed its discarded leaves, stretching its skeletal arms, relishing the lifting of the burden. But now, in Winter, it flexes its ghostly fingers in the wind, beckoning the Spring.