Extract From -Natures Time Poem by Peter Rose

Natural time

Human life span has no meaning in the dance of natural time.
As humans have no future, natures time rules again.
The insanity that became the normal way of life in “developed, ”
nations has reached its logical end and humanity,
with its arrogant impatience, has gone from planet Earth.

It is now past the time of ice and snow,
past the time of primrose show.
Now past time, when wild hares fight,
the daffodils have withered, from our sight.
Robins still strut and preen, fight and sing,
but fresh calls for mates, have stilled their ring.
Conies young, in numbers great,
cropping grass for hungers sake.
Young are growing, heed not parents growl,
playful pups now seriously prowl.
Vixens cease to call to cubs,
while bees replenish honey tubs.

The wild rose is past its prime, petals drop,
their nectar taken to last sop.
Now is the time of honeysuckle sweet,
perfume bring bumbles to the meet.
Now is the time when martins swoop,
live insects into mouths to scoop.
Now swifts and swallows patrol the skies,
feasting on the million flies.


Time not measured by the hour,
passing events as a gentle shower.
Time by natures steady clock,
passes slow for bird and rock.
Seconds have no meaning here,
Mankind has passed, so no fear.
Natures time can again unfold,
seasons roll past, not being told.

Butterflies grace the wind,
gentle creatures have never sinned.
Dragon flies unfold their wings,
seeking prey, they are fearsome things.
Mountain or mayfly each has their time,
Never need to watch a mime.
Only humans reached out for next breath,
all sensible creatures, accepted death.






Nature lives in its present now,
be they soaring Eagle or hedgehog sow.
Natures time has no rush,
no clever lies turning minds to mush.
Natures time is measured by the change,
be it gnat or mountain range.
Human time measured by what's coming,
now there's no fools incessant running.
The past has gone, so roots are factual,
growing strong or weak, as is natural.


Soon will come the white haired barley ears,
but no man will crop or shed few tears.
Mother Earth, sweet Gaia great,
Passing time is universal fate.
With no humans to sully fair land,
only deserts fill with sand.
Natures time and natural speed,
measures only growing seed.
Summer sun and winter gale,
all things live or weakly fail.
Natural changes each for reason,
season replenishes past season.
Mountains to microbes, all have a fate,
each measured by seasons rolling gait.




Regrow and rebirth the rhythm of creations cycle,
no more humans, trying to defy Archangel Michael.
Only constant is the changes of seasons,
nothing strives to find just reasons.
Change is constant in cycles dance,
no humans disturb with noisy prance.
All things have cycle of birth to death,
accept this and abandon attempted theft.
Might oaks to grassy herb,
all grow and thrive, with just time to curb.
All must pass through every phase,
cycle complete, for destiny pays.