Something of Mother Nature is revealed in her bird song and bluebells.
Something of human nature, in our invention of noise and weeds.
Mother Nature is seen in the light of sun and moon.
Ours can be known by the lightness of heart at dawn or dusk.
She has her rhythm of life and death, we take refuge in beliefs.
Her voice is the language of breeze and caw, ours of haiku and fugue.
We fashioned the felling axe. She fashioned Joyce...