I live in NW Oregon. July, August and early September is the dry season. It’s raining this evening and it’s poetry. It’s not a heavy rain but a moderate one which is music to my ears. There was more poetry today thanks to the really obnoxious screechy of the Stellar Jays who were fighting each other for food to lay away for winter – this too is poetry. The same can be said for the Pacific Gray Squirrels who are waging war with each other to get food to lay away for winter. The jays and the squirrels also wage war on each other – more poetry. But perhaps the best of the poetry is Sharp-shinned hawk who is looking for a Stellar Jay or the Red Tailed Hawk that is looking for a Pacific Gray Squirrel. All of those events are the poetry of nature.
You I hope you will excuse me but I feel more comfortable waxing poetic and musing than I do getting political. I how I do love the poetry of nature even when it seems cruel sometimes.