The Observer
The Observer
Oh to look and not be seen
Behind walls and forest green
The secret journey of the wind
An account of how and where it’s been
Mother Nature with her wild manifests
Wild creatures primed for angry tempests
As living in the shadow of mother’s tears
Binds temper’s primed with common fears
Oh to be looking at nature transpiring
Looking in her heart for anger spiraling
Hanging onto mother charging in the wild
The shifting of the wind for soon beguiled
As observers ride with the pulse of nature
Then drift back into the night unseen
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