Nature – Page 3 – THE LONELY WHITE WOLF

what is a weed?

June 4, 2025

𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.
𝚗𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚜
𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚞𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚝.
𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚢 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎,
𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍
𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚗,
𝚕𝚊𝚠𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚎𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚘𝚕𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎.

𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜
𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚜
𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎.
𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜
𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜,
𝚗𝚘.
𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐,
𝙾𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑.

picking strawberries

May 30, 2025

i was sad to see them
wrapped in plastic
after picking them
so freely in the fields
all those years ago.

a girl and her basket,
nose blushed by the sun,
ribbons snapping
in the wind,

mosquito bites and
the hum of bees
as golden light
cast shadows
across tall grass.

in the distance, laughter.
innocence, yet to be taken

consider the pencil
i hold in my hand
and the decades of growing
now torn from the land
like a babe ripped
from its mother’s breast
what life had to end
for this page that i hold
so that i might scribe poems
with words so bold

and so, what does make a home

May 25, 2025

and can we make one anywhere?
and what about belonging,

do blades of grass belong?
taken for granted and stepped on,

and what about the daisies,
ripped up and made into chains?

does a tree ever dream
of forests far away?

is the hermit grab grateful
for no fixed address?

and is the swift yearning to land,
and crying for rest?

is the mountain growing to see
what lies beyond the seas?

and so, what does make a home,
and can we make one anywhere?

i filled it with flowers

May 21, 2025

they left two large holes
deep and dark
like a well in the forest

and i started to drown
at first
and lost myself and
who i was
the parts of me that were them

until i saw the flowers
and filled the holes
with shells from the ocean
that sparkled

CORA AND THE CROW

December 21, 2023

what bird is this

that comes to me

so late at night

and speaks sweetly

bringing word

of places unknown

with tales of forests

overgrown

of running rivers

never dry

of star filled nights

that shine and thrive

it whispers to me

where i reside

a dank, dark well

amidst the tides

for i know no sunrise

or blue moon that shines

my world is darkness

and endless night

poem 2.1

July 3, 2023

a billion to one
we travel through billions of molecules everyday
that gather on either side of us,
and sometimes it is hard
to see the beauty through the endlessly mundane.
flowers floating in sewage water.
it’s about looking at the road
from a different perspective.
there is a reason that the path you chose
is less traveled.
it’s dirty and difficult and confusing.
anyone can be content,
even happy,
if you choose to seek adventure.
in every person there is a hero;
in every task there is a quest.
it’s a billion to one
that you’re even here.
what are the chances of your mother
meeting you father?
what were the odds
that they would fall in love?
we are all artists
waiting to paint.

poem #31

June 27, 2021

the moon

he was like the moon,
cold and distant - 
but always within reach.
she would watch him
from the bottom of her well.
she often heard laughter
echoing through her chamber.
the stone walls that encircled
glistened with blue light;
small comfort.
she would sometimes sing;
that unsettled him,
shattering his illusions
of a perfect world.
the rope had been cut - 
long ago.
she knew it had been him.
the neglected forest,
wild and overgrown,
kept her a secret - 
never to be found.

poem #27

May 10, 2021

summer

god knows i suffer in the summer.
the season doesn't invigorate me,
i find it depleting.
the new light disorients me
and fulminating nature overwhelms me.
the hazy air, thick with cut grass
and pollen, like an invisible army
endlessly assaulting my eyes and nose.

it all begins in the spring,
equally as melancholic.
i sweat all day,
but by night i am freezing.
no sweater or shoe seem right
for this temperamental time of year.

every blow of my life
has taken place in warm weather.
the jovial laughter in
chiffon summer dresses
only remind me of the losses,
betrayals and disappointment.

the summertime inertia
of waking up in bleached surroundings
and having the distinct feeling
of being inevitably pushed forward.

but today is the weekend,
i do not have to leave the house.
i can wake up and not get up.
there is nothing better.

poem #26

April 26, 2021

sprite

i walked the lonely woods at night,
and came across a pixie.
he was so small, his hair was bright,
his appearance rather tricksy. 

he flashed a mischievous, sprite like grin,
and beckoned me come forward.
i walked to him, my mind made dim,
and did just as he ordered.

he pointed to a fallen tree,
and asked me to inspect it.
i looked and saw, to my surprise,
it was not as i expected.

the tree was not a tree at all,
but a giant soundly sleeping.
i turned to see the imp was gone,
and this would be my ending.

THE LONELY WHITE WOLF

my secret notebook

Tag: Nature