Ah beautiful places
where we come
risk our lives as though
we’re gifted more
than just this precious one
icy water’s cold
reflects a wide eye blue
summer serene sky
swallowing our breath
a final anti hero cry
mighty river song barely a ripple
flows on by
How long
I’ve lived already
barely
realizing the quiet quite obvious:
inspiration
means breathing in
while conscious.
I aspire now
to more than
mere presence.
Ah
I have realized
again
and again
breathing out
breathing in
when I venture out
when I come back in
whether harsh with cold
or soft summer wind
whatever day or dare or game
we find ourselves stumbling in
Nature wins
Nature wins.
Pencil Notes 