REFLECTION

Amputated hands lay on the ground without leaves,
Winds breathe now cooler through the trees.
In the winds fluctuations I hear sounds,
In the winds gentle bubble I hear song,
Washing over me I feel eternally strong.
Fruit shriveled but sweet vacates its grip,
Landing to rest within nature's hold.
With salty eyes I stare into the distance,
This is a place I dwell my soul,
Nature's eternal wash through my hair that roll.
Songs on currents of invisible wires,
Gently rocking on the local church spire.
Shutting my eyes I hear a grumble,
We are slaves to our stomachs.
Walking away I feel so alive and humble.