Warsaw's Colors

Standing there,
beneath the old growth,
those most intoxicating scents
of Mother Nature's sweet breath...

exhilarating, all so consuming,
supreme and uplifting,
such grace...such love...such a formidable presence...!

Is She,
Mother Nature,
Mother of the trees, Mother of the sweet breeze,
oh so very close to us, and always only for us...

To marvel upon,
to dream with,
to carry us away, back, and away again,
on a most formidable journey of her own making.

Summer's turned into Autumn, too soon,
and our unfulfilled desires, into dreams,
waiting, oh so ever waiting,
for next year to grant us our deepest wishes.

Like banners, like flags, like blushing cheeks,
Mother Nature so adorns herself,
and reminds us, and too, promises us,
ample opportunities for renewal, for another chance...

When Father Spring shall once again revive Her,
and child Summer shall again be born from Her,
for all of us, unconditionally, totally, beautifully,
ever so completely, and most divinely.

Mother Nature, sweet Mother Nature,
lays her head down low, and falls asleep,
vested with the knowledge that come Spring,
her heart and her soul will shine anew in Warsaw!


Copyright © 1998 Hans Raffelt, All Rights Reserved.

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