🌍 The Circle of Life - nature poetry

nature poetry

A vibrant sunset scene: a large, glowing golden #sun hovers low in an amber-hued sky, its warm light illuminating thin, wispy clouds streaked across the heavens, while the dark silhouettes of leafy treetops form a gently undulating horizon at the bottom.

nature poetry

In the grand design of earth and sky,

The circle turns, as ages fly.

From breath’s first gasp to silent rest,

Each soul moves on, a lifelong guest.

A seedling stirs, the roots grow deep,

The tree stands tall, no time for sleep.

It blooms, it bears, it gives, it sheds—

Then sows new life where old life treads.

The sun will rise, the sun will fall,

A golden pulse that guides us all.

The moon will wax, the moon will wane,

A quiet hymn, a soft refrain.

From creeping ant to soaring dove,

All creatures move in rhythms

of A shared design,

both fierce and kind,

A sacred thread through all we find.

From ocean deep to mountain high,

Each life a spark beneath the sky.

Each breath, each step,

a fleeting part of nature’s ever-beating heart.

O Circle vast, forever wide,

With open arms and silent guide,

You hold us close,

you let us go—Yet plant the seeds we’ll never know.

In your embrace,

we find our place,

Bound by time,

and touched by grace.

nature poetry

Circle of Life: A Story Reimagined

An Evocative Tale Rooted in the Eternal Cycle

 The Cosmic Overture

Before the first dawn caressed the world with golden fingers, before the song of wind was ever carried through the sleeping woods, the universe spun in silent anticipation — a serpent swallowing its tail, both beginning and end nestled within its infinite coil. Here, within the hush of creation, life blinked awake, a single note blooming into symphony.

 Interconnectedness and Continuity

At the story’s heart pulses a profound truth: life is not a straight road, but a wheel, ever-turning. Each existence, be it leaf or lover, is stitched into the endless tapestry — a patch of colour in an unravelling quilt, forever mended and remade.

Seasons

This is the journey of a solitary tree, rooted in ancient earth, standing as both witness and participant in the eternal waltz of birth, growth, decay, and rebirth. Through storms, seasons, and the slow dance of time, the tree learns to embrace life’s circle, finding meaning in its endless turning — a metaphor for all living things.

The First Green

In a meadow awash with morning dew, a sapling thrusts its tender shoots skyward, eager as a child’s laughter. The soil cradles it like a mother’s arms, whispering promises of rain and sun. The air is thick with assonance — the sweet hush of “s” and “l”, the lullaby of early spring. Here, the protagonist emerges: not just a tree, but the very spirit of all things growing, yearning, reaching.

The Weight of Time

Seasons whirl in dizzying pirouettes. Summer’s heat blazes down, a lion’s breath scorching the earth, while autumn’s crisp fingers strip away green ambitions. With winter’s bite comes loneliness — a silence so sharp it sculpts the tree’s heart into brittle crystal. The struggle is against time itself, that relentless river sweeping all things toward inevitable decline.

The Deepening Shadow

Blight creeps like a shadow beneath the bark, and woodcutters’ axes, gleaming silver and cold, glint from afar. Choices must be made: to surrender to despair, or to send roots deeper, clutching at the marrow of the earth. The tree’s branches whip in the gale, a synecdoche for the world’s own battles — every part a microcosm of some greater war.

Life Unfolds in Imagery

Spring returns, a phoenix rising from the ashes of frost. Buds burst forth — emerald flames licking hungry at the sky. Birds nestle in the crook of arms, filling the air with the antithesis of silence: riotous, jubilant song. The tree is a cathedral of green, each leaf a stained-glass window catching the light of passing hours. Life swells in the roots, races through the trunk, shivers in every bough.

The Acceptance

One autumn evening, as the sun dips low and paints the sky with fire, the tree glimpses eternity in the dying light. It is not the end but a beginning; every fallen leaf is a verse in the old song, every withered branch a memory reborn in the marrow of new growth. Personified, the tree smiles — a knowing, gentle acceptance blooming where fear once grew.

The Metamorphosis

A tempest roars, tearing at the tree with wild, jealous hands. Lightning etches its story across the bark, and in that white-hot moment, the tree stands not as itself, but as the sum of all it has been: sapling, shelter, ruin, rebirth. This is life’s climax — a crescendo of suffering and joy, of endings melting seamlessly into beginnings.

The Quiet After

The storm sighs away, leaving a hush so deep, it is as if the world pauses to catch its breath. The shattered branches are not scars, but stories. New shoots unfurl, tentative and hopeful. The cycle spins: life persists, quiet and resolute, in the wake of tumult.

Harmony Restored

Seasons slide by, old wounds clothed in moss and memory. The tree stands in serene communion with all around — foxgloves blooming at its feet, children laughing in its shade. The wheel has turned, and in its turning, brought peace.

The Meaning of the Journey

To live is to change, to lose and regain, to be one note in the symphony and yet echo the whole. The tree’s life, brief as a sigh and endless as the stars, is the story of us all: a moving circle, ever returning to itself, ever unfolding into new song.

The Legacy of the Circle

Beyond the final page, seeds carried on the wind find soil, whispering the promise of tomorrow. The circle endures, as each new life draws breath from the old. The tree’s story, like the poem which inspired it, wends onward — a torch passed from hand to hand, heart to heart, as long as the world spins.