Nature, the Great Teacher

How I love to be here,

on the back veranda of my house,

where I can hear

little birds singing in the trees,

and where I can give way to a colorful dream.

There's the light purple of the bougainvillea,

a somewhat darker shade of the stately orchid,

its roots seemingly glued

to the trunk of a giant jackfruit tree,

a precious burden so to see.

There's the orange, red and white

of the hibiscus Rosa Sinensis,

all of them competing tight

in beauty, charm and brightness.

Watch the tapestry of grass below,

so neatly mowed two days ago.

It's surrounded by lush shrubs,

that shed on the grass a dark shadow

which is meticulously outlined

by the bright midmorning sunlight.

But all of a sudden, some distance away,

menacing the cloudless sky,

starts dodging wildly, rather high,

as if they're moved mysteriously

by strong and powerful hands unseen

This violent wind makes a frantic scene.

Goodness, it blows harder and harder

and seething with anger

the storm pulls off the leaves, harshly

from their branches, mercilessly.

Utterly helpless they now balance in the air

before touching the grass down there.

Then they lie still

in the clutch of the humid weed,

which makes me start with a chill,

as it reminds me of something weird,

the approaching end of human life.

However gloomily I now awaken

out of a broken dream,

Dear God, I thank Thee for the lesson

You have just taught me.

By Djoeweriah Poorwo S.