The Art of Nature

A perfect painted masterpiece

I step through dying leaves

Across the risen roots in the dirt

The moss, moist and soft

On the northern side of the tree

My barefeet feel the cold stones

In the ever rushing creek bed

As the thick water runs over my toes

Like a solid liquid window

Peaceful wind rustles the trees overhead

Flockes of wings dance in the sky

On a stage of cotton clouds

The great pine whispers in the silence

Like a grandfather to his children