Tag Archive for Nature and the Wild

Guilty Land

The wind on its course, set by some unseen navigator, gently caressed the trees as it ambled on…


It seemed to hint that it was only a foretaste of the impending holocaust which was in preparation for the great beginning of its oppressive tyranny.

The sky turned cold…

From seemingly nowhere, a giant monstrosity, like a judge, clothed in deep blackness, stepped onto the heavenly stage…

The sun cowered as it was drawn away and imprisoned behind doors and walls of darkness, enveloping its light, cutting it off from the world below.

An eeriness brooded over the earth. The seas grew restless. The great, dark tyrant maddening them like hungry savages waiting to gorge themselves on their prey.

The slamming of doors and the latching of windows could be heard, almost in spontaneous chorus, for we knew what was coming…

Lightning tore across the sky, seeking to bring ruin on the tallest, unlucky victim it could find in its brief but relentless mission.

A low, heavy rolling sound prevailed over the mountaintops, like a jury gloating heartlessly over the sentence meted out to the unfortunate soul.

The cloud, like a commanding officer, lined up its troops, all brilliantly dressed in cold, white uniforms, ready to destroy at the command…

Dissipation was ordered.

The fleet of deadly bullets (summoned to action) was set on course beyond the point of no return to fulfill a destiny of courage, honor and self-sacrifice.

Plants of all shapes, sizes and ‘walks’ of life were crumpled under the heavy blows of the nefarious hailstones and beaten to a pulp.

Tin roofs caved in like foil, exposing all they had to protect, like a new box of tissues being broken open and its contents torn to shreds.

Cars, as if made of balsa wood, were ruthlessly pelted, like targets at a shooting range; they buckled, bent beyond repair.

The ignorant animals in the fields were not even found innocent. They were struck down one by one, disintegrating under the ceaseless shelling of damning hailstones. Bodies were left to rot on the open plains that resembled gigantic abattoirs.

The judgment had been successfully carried out and the sun was set free once again to roam the skies and heal the broken land with its warmth.

The heartless laughter of the evil beast and his jury could still be heard in the distance as they slowly subsided over the horizon.


the invisible navigator saw fit to direct the path of the wind to caress our trees again, and…




its secret warning.

Twilit Dusk

In an effort to civilize Nature,

I, one twilit dusky day,

with the aid of pruners and the family’s black dog,

set off through the prairie;

through the blossoming grasses of the prairie,

toward my childhood destination:

the tree fort.


There, surrounded by the trees,

the grape-vine–entwined trees,

I trampled the weeds

and pruned back the vines until

I could stand no more;

for the biting gray insects,

the bloodthirsty insects, had won.

They were more diligent than I.


In an effort to civilize Nature,

I, one twilit dusky day,

set off back through the prairie,

through the blossoming grasses of the prairie,

through the droning bees’ noise of the prairie;

and, pausing a moment here and there,

I gathered a bouquet:

To take Nature again into Civilization.


The lights are out

and the house is quiet as she slinks down the stairs.

You could never tell but by her haunted eyes what fear fills her mind;

and a way she has of looking over her shoulder,

cringing from shadows, touches, and people who aren’t there.

You could never tell from her stylish clothes or her prettily curled hair.

Her designer shoes wouldn’t give her away, or her outstanding grades.

Yet she walks like she’s expecting some sort of brutal blow.

Her eyes flick from yours, should you have the stomach to meet their fey sorrow.

The lights are out.

All her family sleeps as she creeps from her room.

The gentle night holds her close, keeps her face in shadow.

Delicate fingers shake as they reach to touch a rose,

running her finger across a silky petal, accidentally snagging on a thorn.

She whispers a quiet word to the patient, kindly night, an ancient question

as her finger bleeds. “Why?” and as always the night does not answer.

A petal falls, disturbed by her unsteady fingers, unable to cling to the stem any longer.

Silently another petal falls; a flower’s life is not so long as that of a woman.

Someone stirs and she flees to her room.

The night sighs, caresses her face as she slips into sleep.

You could never tell from her peaceful face that she is any different from you.