Poem: Mother Nature’s Complaint

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Hello, I’m Mother Nature—Hear me out!
You need to know this, and without a doubt.
I know you know the Seasons, know them all…
You name them Winter, Spring, then Summer, Fall.
I like those names myself—they’re easy names.
But there are times I dislike many claims.
You blame Me for whatever you think wrong;
For things in Nature you don’t think belong.
The Summer hot, the Winter much too cold.
Or when the Spring’s reluctant to unfold;
Or Fall—it doesn’t linger long enough.
You know all this—all this, and other stuff!
Well, hear this—all the Seasons act alone;
I told them from the start, they’re on their own.
Oh, yes, each of your gripes they hear from me,
But just how well they listen, you can see!

© Richard Williams

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