The sun smiles, <br />forcefully examining the bitterness of the leaves <br />that have become <br />crushed under the weight <br />of the eve’s rainfall. <br /> <br />I look on, <br />curiously wondering <br />why the sun seems to give light, <br />to even the most shattering <br />displays of nature’s fury. <br /> <br />I am broken, I think. <br />The sun has never fixed me. <br /> <br />Outside the drops of rain evaporate steadily. <br />Dew, which once subsided in even the most porous <br />of surfaces <br />has all but disappeared, <br />confronted instead <br />by a warmth as steady <br />as the sun is iridescent. <br /> <br />You are an observer, I say. <br />Callous, cold, and unfeeling. <br /> <br />On the ground two squirrels fight playfully. <br />An acorn has fallen between the two, <br />and with quizzical wonderment <br />I watch as a <br />stalled fury erupts <br />into a courtship like dance <br />of dominator <br />versus <br />domineered. <br /> <br />Atleast they have each other, I muse. <br />Who do you have? <br /> <br />The last remnants of darkness have lifted <br />and the birds respond with a steady hum. <br />In their song I hear them say, <br />serenity, serenity: <br />this is the world. <br /> <br />I turn my head, <br />And dropp my gaze <br />downward. <br /> <br />Serenity, serenity, <br />Is not the world’s way. <br /> <br /> <br />The sun rises fully, <br /> <br />I sit on the ground. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright (c) David DeSantis<br /><br />David DeSantis<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-cynical-nature/
