Our Ever Changing World Poem by Bob Blackwell

As I fly high above our world in
such a clear azure and cloudless sky,
I listen to the roar of the wind, and
hear the crash of waves upon a shore.
I see hills and mountaintops, crawl
endlessly overland, as if on a slow
journey to some far off distant land.

The red green grass of summer
runs quickly from those peaks,
a red topped tide that rushes, waves,
plunging down from the summits,
to where the valleys shine, and glisten,
radiant from the streams that run,
over rocks, stones, and waterfalls,
to form pools that reflect and glow,
with sparkling sunbeams, to then move
on through trees so tall so proud.
Trees that always seem to stretch my way.

The green and fertile valleys washed clean
by summer rains and melting winter snows.
Greens, browns, reds and natures other colours,
form earth and fields, spread out like a patchwork.
Everything placed just right, different, and unique,
nothing quite the same, this world of ours of many
contrasts, shades, relief’s, and different colours.

Moving on, seas so green so blue,
splashed white like snow. now mingle
with the land, are full of life for us to see.
Tiny fishes shining bright, millions mass
and congregate, to make a shoal that shimmers,
the sun shines through and from this mass,
this throng, this multitude of many fish,
the water seems to dance with light smiling
kisses, sparkle, glint, flicker and jump
over here, now over there, then here again.

The same seas, water laps gently on the shore,
sand so black, so dark, so wet, glistens,
tiny bubbles foam like frothy soap,
then holes appear and disappear, as the
waves move out and the waves move in

On this ever changing shifting tide,
A few broken shells, and pebbles,
lie so still, not moving in the sand
and tiny crab like creatures running
scared, hurry to burrow and hide
their bodies in the washed clean sand.

Polar ice caps now appear covered in snow,
shifting constantly over frozen seas.
With the changing seasons they
seem to come and go, ever moving
drifting south then north then south again.

Other places that I see deserts, barren
shifting sands, drifting, drifting, moving,
too hot by day, too cold at night.
They form drifted sanded mountains
from the wind swept drifted sands.
Barren as they are, some life lives there.

This world, this earth, a planet of changes,
first the seasons come and seasons go,
now snow, then rain, now drought,
and then a hurricane. Fog, mist, drizzly rain,
clouds flat, clouds streaky, fluffy clouds,
clouds that rain, green clouds hail, clouds of
falling snow, but then warm sun appears.

This world of changes, nothing stays the same,
it is like a constant moving picture show.
An ever changing continuous performance.
Entrance is free, there is no charge to view,
but if you want to have a life, just make sure
you are on time, or you might just miss the show.