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The Ways of Nature

The mist of a broken dawn


over wisteria-draped

paper lanterns,


in the southern

windblown darkness

of tomorrows youth.

Sleepy fog sheaths


morning sun time,

boldly lingering

for a

splash of noon time.

Willows sample waterways


just for them,

supposing their right

to nobler thirst,

and ferns lean

into crackled maple trunks, amply quenched

in shady repose.

Purplish sapphires

of a twilight sky

embed themselves

into crevices of

honeysuckle reprieve,

caught upon waves

of starry resonance.

Crimson ripples

of an evening tide

gush for sleep,

washing casually

upon sands of pebbled glass, resting

for tomorrow.

Angela McMullen is a freelance writer who lives and writes in maritime Nova Scotia, where she is inspired by the rhythm of the Bay of Fundy tides, the pulse of long-standing forests, the expansive fields of the Annapolis Valley, the backdrop of North and South mountain ranges, and the distinction of the four seasons.

Angela's most recent work is a slim book of poetry that captures the pure essence of nature and her unwavering resilience. Infused with undertones of Italian influence, this collection of poetry speaks for itself.

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