Nature Poem

We, who are civilized, like to idealize and sanitize Nature
However, birth is a bloody, painful process that can end in sorrow and suffering.
Death isn't always quick and painless like my childhood nature shows proclaimed.
Natures glory is not always green or gold.

Ask the farmer or the logger if Nature is gentle.
Mud and muck, snot and slime,
Nature can be a stern and unforgiving mother.
The fetid odor of putrification and eutrification
Is as much her perfume as roses and spring breezes.

Today, I looked at the ruler straight snow line on the mountain.
The trees above stood out bright and strong against the twilight sky.
It reminded me of a winter display found in the shopping mall.
Perhaps I should be comforted by the sign of order and beauty,
But I felt uncertain and distant and longed for Natures intimacy.