Nature doesn’t keep its lawn.
Scattering seeds hither and yon.
Letting the birds and animals do their doo.
Fertilizing the next generation to peek into view.
Or, borne on the wind, flying so far.
With no help at all, a falling star.
To take hold and grow, whither it may.
To bask in the light of a new spring day.
Only to face a daunting task.
How to grow tall and reproduce--to last.
Like the knarly root of a knarly tree.
Clinging to life on a knarly knee.
Of rock so barren no soil will stay.
And yearly rain falls just drips away.
And still she clings a thousand years.
Through earthquakes, lightning, drought, and fears.
Or fight for the light, in a forest dark and deep.
Only the tall and the strong will ever peep.
The unfiltered light above the canopy.
The eagles’ lair where all can see.
And in the struggle, the strong win out.
And beauty is the final result.
The unkempt lawn of nature’s lair,
Is beautiful beyond compare.
Copyright 2001 © Ronald W. Hull