Mother Nature's Paintbox

Mother Nature clothed
In many a shade and hue
Bright pink and some orange
Yellows, ochre and lemon too
Brown of tree's sturdy branch
Green of leaf covered twig
White blossom of apple and haw
New growth from tiny herbal sprig

As Spring gives way to Summer
And birds in tree do sound
So Our Lady opens up her paintbox
And splashes her colours around
painting flowers to attract the bee
Who around their petals dance
Their buzz of beating wing
A sound of harmonic vibrance

No matter where you cast
Your roving, awe-filled eye
There sits another splendid sight
To make you smile and sigh
And in your gladdened heart
Give thanks to Our Lady fair
For all the gifts she has bestowed
On a race that doesn't really care

A race that thinks only of itself
An ne'er a thought for others
That burns and mutilates
Till blood the ground it smothers
While tree is torn from ground
And creature in factory jailed
Oh how suddenly the sights
The beauties they have paled

The scream of the slaughtered
The terror of bitch in farm
The open sored experiment
Designed to enhance some beauty charm
That defiles the very essence
Of what Our Lady bestowed
What greed, what vanity forces
An innocence along that road

So look around yourselves
At the Beauty Our Great Mother
In her wisdom and delight
Has decided herself to cover
Then think upon the suffering
That we've put her creatures
And realise we have become
Criminals in the guise of preachers


Terry Rhiannyr
May, 2012