Nature’s self-sustained beauty can’t be explained in a laconic manner.
Night cuts day short, a lurid strife in broad daylight.
Night sits on earth, everything blue-lit, as it waits for a rematch.
As time passes by, the gallant night makes way for day to take its rightful place on the throne.

Like fallen soldiers, the sun rises.
The sun’s rays gift life and warmth to the earth.
The light allays the earth’s restfulness.
Such a wonderful and saccharine moment.
But, like in life, there are moments that spoil.

A storm comes uninvited.
The storm kibitzes during its own tragedy.
The chirpings of birds and the thunder form such a contrapuntal composition.
A cold, improvident, lyricism downpour of tears hits earth.
But, like all seasons, time is not on its side.
The sun attenuates the storm, and right away it absconds from the scene.
In its trail, it leaves a raffish mess.
The trees stand weary from its passing,
And the earth remembers where the rain once fell.

Like storms, seasons also occur.
Fall passes with its tears
And its repertoire of fiery-colored leaves.
Winter makes its way.
A sharp, coarse, cold wind blows.
The residue of rain freezes,
And soon the indolent snow falls slowly,
Forming a kind of gossamer.

The feeling of the inert winter soon wears off,
And then the depletion of the snow begins.
What falls are beautiful frozen puffs of depression.
The silence breaks the wind,
And the moon sets the mood.
A long day, a peaceful night;
Nature takes its rest from its misery.

Time passes; the cycle restarts.
The frozen earth begins to soften,
And the sleeping roots begin to stir.

The moon drifts away, and comes the gleaming light.
Nature awakens from its hibernation.
A new day glistens with opportunities.
Spring comes, then summer;
Nature is beautiful, albeit bipolar.
Nothing can compare to its rare touch,
A gentle touch that leaves a mark on the fertile soil.
The aroma of fresh life fills the air.
Flowers rise from the fertile soil,
Stretching toward the warmth they once lacked.
Spring is the prime season in which chances seem to be in hand.
What appeared lost now finds its place again.

This is the way nature works.