Count me doves endlessly soaring the sky
do they carry dreams you have wrapped within
when tears form in their eyes is it your cry
stroke their feathers tell me where they have been

Nature's temperament, constant battles
winds blow from south heat to the icy north
extremities like snakes without rattles
one is left to justify what goes forth

Can you then foretell what is to become
as lines of our palms follow a curved path
all else is muddled by a few with some
engaging unison in a bird bath

Be it nature that transforms as I see
I dare not question, I just let it be