Sonnet 365

There is a pleasure in the naked woods
Within whose depths no equal can be found,
Senses assailed by everything that’s good,
A place where peace and harmony abound.
Confined amidst the rawest smells of earth
There spawned to draw the sweetest of sweet breaths;
Verdant cathedrals where confirmed at birth
All sustenance first drawn of nature’s breast.
Dear Mother Earth, forgive me, I have sinned
And shed upon you tears of acid rain,
Of pride and greed and prejudice chagrined,
Natura’s soul rude whored for wealth profane;
Woe that my fall from promise was so great
Or that beseeched redemption be too late.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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