Poetry

Do you see the trees, the way I do?
Do you see them dance and wave a gentle hello?
Or do you just walk by step by step without a glance?
Do you see the water, the way I do?
Did your eye catch a glimpse of their beauty?
Or is this yet another jewel you have failed to find?
Do you hear the birds, the way I do?
How each melodic note is perfect yet unique?
Or are you busy with the thoughts that you think?
Do you see the sky, the way I do?
How its colors are in constant fluid motion to change?
Or is it just another thing you take for granted?
Do you hear the wind the way I do?
Its sweet gentle whispers telling that God does love you?
Or are you just listening to your own voice?

Do you feel the sun the way I do?
How it’s warmth embraces my face?
Or is it just something you pass by?
All these things
In every season
Are beautiful
Are intricate
Are full of life.
And all it takes
Is a second
A moment
From your time
To know that
Life is in and around us
And appreciate it the way I do.
I’ve never really written a poem before. I’m not much of a rhyme-ist, and my flow is not exactly that of an Emily Dickinson or a E.E. Cummings, but I do enjoy poetry. I do enjoy the outdoors. So, trying to convey that in a poem is pretty enjoyable even it’s not the best.

I think that one of the best portion of poetry that captures my true intentions is that of Emily Dickinson in one of her poems when she talks about nature being a gentle mother:
With infinite Affection --
And infiniter Care --
Her Golden finger on Her lip --
Wills Silence -- Everywhere --