Long, warm rays the morning sun beams-
The cool, short way to start another day.
Vast dunes of dry sand undulate-
A small playcourt for probing, fertile minds.
Hot lava pours out of volcanic mouths-
Cold truths, they are, about death and destruction.
The dense woods are silent-
But they speak loud deep moods.
The rolling waves are roaring-
Yet a mute evidence of persistence.
Woolly clouds pass across the skies-
Often the still source of inspiration.
The hoary mountains, for ages, stand aloft-
Though forever young and strong to the eyes.
Nature folds me into her teeming life-
Giving me a vision of my lone inner self.