Our Mother's Nature

“Death is the mother of beauty”

--Wallace Stevens, Sunday Morning

She’s silent while she watches:

The flowers, the flora,

daisies and bluebells.

Their petals spreading from tight blooms

throwing fragrances into the air

after pushing their way through soil.

Tree branches lend large thick trunks,

their leaves like edible blankets,

Creating homes for fauna;

Striped chipmunks and flying squirrels,

a perfect symbiotic ecosystem.

She admires how the

birds’ feathers are painted

magnificent glittered blues and greens or plain obsidian,

hummingbirds and crows,

each beautiful with their own flapping pattern

spreading their colors into the sky.

Insects each unique,

thousands of creative designs.

The praying mantis, eyes with stereo vision,

the dragonfly, wings colored and translucent,

crawling life underfoot.

Humans, Homo sapiens,

You and me,

a complex combination of DNA

creating unique designs

passed on from previous generations.

She sees us all,

and waits.

Her embrace, the last we feel:

flower petals shriveling into pale shades.

trees leafless, exposing silver trunks.

Birds will lose flight and stiffen,

Animals wither.

Insects statue.

Humans rigor mortis,

leaving ash for their loved ones-

all phases of beautiful.

DEANNA HANSON is an ACC student who plans to pursue her education in writing after obtaining her Associates in Psychology. Aside from writing, she enjoys hunting, hiking and spending time with her family.