The irony of existence

In muck grows the rose,
whence pain gives prose.
From darkness shines bright
the wonder of a light
bearing explosive brilliance.

The fallen tree gives
space wherein blossom lives.
From roots buried deep
the nutrients seep
bearing vibrant dalliance.

Out with the girls

Below my feet the mountain sprawls
I hear the village bell chime as the sun it falls
The wind blusters and blows without whistle
I feel as if time has come to a standstill
Biding with patience that’s fully enjoyed
I stand alone as a herder employed

shift

Howling and hailing, screeching and wailing;
She goes into the night.

Rolling and ranting, sweating and panting;
She wakes with a fright.

Weeping and waiting, anticipating;
She rises with the light.

Caring and caressing, kissing and blessing;
She shines out bright.