Nature developed in profusion
a cornucopia of form.
But man’s methodical intrusion
cut their number in a storm.
We enjoy nature, peace and quiet,
see coloured flowers with delight,
but at the same time cope with riot
and scorn and disrespect and fight.
Only variety, however,
helps us and nature to proceed
and continuously endeavour
to see what people really need.
In smallest crevices you see
pretty flowers blooming
and wonder just how it can be
that even stones are rooming.
They seem to offer quite enough
for seeds to grow and spread
which are astonishingly tough,
this makes caretakers mad.
For once they settle in the ground
the plants do multiply
and are between more stones then found
into whose gaps they pry.
Autumn leaves leaves to do what they must,
and that is to lose their green.
But this does not at all mean they go bust,
they simply know how to wean.
The tree saves its energy step by step
and reduces the danger to freeze.
And secretly it stays full of pep
until springtime sets out to tease.
When the temperatures rise the tree shows what it did
in the nondescript buds in the dark.
It slowly unfolds new leaves which get rid
of their covers as brown as the bark.
Some greens are greener than the green we know.
They shine so clear that you avert your eyes.
It is a wonder nature ‘s keen to show,
whose brilliancy surpasses human tries.
Soft to the touch the leaves greet us in spring,
already they succeed to catch the sun,
transform its energy to make a useful thing
that as sugar any foodchain has begun.
This practical perspective set aside
the beech tree is a favourite in my place.
It opens hearts and eyes in spring just wide
as its reflection can be seen on our face.
Each process whose end pleases much
takes its time to ripe.
States in between to see and touch
are not the final type.
Although we must, of course, admit
that nature can compete
developing just bit by bit
perfection we can’t meet.
A flower, fruit or leaf or root
is made in great detail
that is majestic, small or cute;
precision does not fail.
Without a brush nature can aptly paint.
We only must take a more careful look.
Then we can see the cosmos that we taint
by disrespecting all the time it took.
Millions of years developed life’s profusion
that we depend on and enjoy now day by day,
and evidently build on the illusion
that it will always help us, come what may.
I do not want to paint the future black
but cannot overlook signs of distress.
Though nature’s colours will be what we lack,
replacing them by grey and wasted mess.
There’s always hope, a silver lining
remains somewhere, though hard to see;
much like the sun that’s always shining
where I can half the day not be.
But optimism makes us careless:
we forget to plan ahead
and respect nature with fairness,
thereby risk it to drop dead.
With regard for nature let us
enjoy our lives in hope
that the damage that then met us
will now heal and we can cope.
Here is what everybody knew:
nature’s moves are rambling.
And the diversity this grew
is never quite assembling.
Depending on the ground they find
plants choose their way to thrive.
Not all ubiquitous inclined
try hard to stay alive.
We humans tend to just neglect
all other species’ needs,
and only now seem to detect
we need the plant that feeds.
* Pflichtfeld
