Beauty

Beauty waiting to be found,

While sound and fragrance play their part.

Jagged mountains and rolling hills,

Merely looking stirs the heart.

A morning sky, a flight of geese,

A wooden lattice dressed with flowers,

The purest white of downy clouds,

Shadows creeping through the hours.

The frozen surface of a lake,

Shadows floating in a fog,

Branches waving in a breeze,

A crop of moss upon a log.

The bands of colour in a rock,

Melting snowflakes, a setting sun,

A spread of countless sparkling stars,

A dancing flame sure plays its part.

Ivy climbing up a wall,

Water dripping, one by one,

A dark horizon’s silhouettes,

Web beads glistening in the sun.

Sands patterned by relentless wind,

Leaves slowly flutter with a breeze,

Berries hiding in a bush,

Leafless branches on winter trees.

Seashells washed up on a beach,

Lightening racing straight to ground.

Albeit of a visual kind,

It’s beauty, just waiting to be found.

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