The wind in a hurricane,
The moon on a summer’s night.
The sun breaking the horizon
And dew at first light.
She is the earth for trees and fruit
Everlasting, ever caring. Forever breaking the tradition of mood.
With a clear sky filled with a vivid arc of shades of hue
After rains have fallen from a once black sky
Turning from grey gray to fresh, bright blue.
She confuses me, as much as the world’s worst enigma.
Juxtaposed, set like prose, but posed in poetic stigma.
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Comments about this poem (She by Jason Lowes )
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- Treasured days..., David Lessard
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