Winter creeps across the land
where mighty oaks and birch trees stand
and insects hid beneath the ground
face certain death if they are found
by mice or rats…and foxes too
nature’s food chain survival glue.
But up above the canopy
buzzards hunt by two or three
they square the ground on high patrol
in search of rabbit or tasty vole
life’s bitter struggle is borne this way
the same tomorrow as yesterday.
And as the winter creep moves on
the weakest creatures now all gone
rats and rabbits…mice and voles
bed down for winter in food-stocked holes
yet o’er the land where we draw breath
there’s barely sign of this fight with death.
©Joe Wilson – The winter struggle…2015
Jovis on a Journey... 
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And with such cold sharp as a knife
All death in nature will dance with life
(me, I’m always trying to seek a happy ending)
Ha ha. If only nature was that kind…thanks for reading my work. 🙂
Surely it is our interpretation of nature that is unkind?
I mean even death has a bad press, how do we know?
Trouble is, it seems those who have died are reluctant or unable to tell us and therefore unable to experience pain ever again, surely that part of nature could be classified as kind?
Someat t’ ponder maybe?
I don’t think of nature as being unkind really. We on the hand can be terribly unkind. Death does indeed get a bad press though and who indeed can know how they feel? That no more pain is to be felt could be seen as a kindness yes. Something to ponder indeed.