Nature Leaves

Grace Bondurant

I saw the deciduous sleeping,

my generation destroyed,

how I mourned the vegetation.

 

I cannot help but stop and look at the

last deodar.

Never forget the latter and last deodar.

 

How sad is the little grasslands!

Never forget the teentsy and trivial

grasslands.

 

When I think of the boreal, I see a

dry world.

Never forget the muddled and woolly

boreal.

 

How gloomy is the damp wetland!

Down, down, down, into the deepness of

the wetland.

Gently it goes—the dull, the moist, the

mute.

 

I cannot help but stop and look at the

majestic forestland.

Down, down, down, into the darkness of

the forestland.

Gently it goes - the regal, the imperial,

the gallant.

 

And I looked at the last deodar.

Never forget the last deodar.

 

Nature Leaves.

Grace Bondurant is fourteen years old and attends Florida Virtual School.

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