Nasty

Nasty grey mountain ranges
rivers flood where daylight changes,
Skies blood red cling overhead
some must atone and re-emerge,
when all is done or left and said..

Trees stand by, sarcastically,
moving to and fro
Somehow they, delightfully
keep what I must grasp to know..

Green lush fields now soothe my feet
bare with winter cold,
Little daffodils will greet
the visionary; true and bold..

Grow fierce in thy direction
denounce this strange dissection
of what has always been.