The natural world is never really gray

Its colors dance and sing and swirl the air

Its vibrant hues invite me out to play

Pulling the threads of my sight with no care

Through the breeze drifts a gentle yellow bird

Soaring on wings of red and winds of gold.

By sapphire mist of a river it’s spurred

towards trees, painted deeper colors of old.

A single leaf rests waiting on the Earth

Bright green but also rustic, wooden brown

Grown brighter and wiser each day since birth, 

It finally rests, with the embrace of ground.

The towering mountain, and the drowning sand 

Shine with the lyrical luster of life

They sing to each other from distant lands 

Not victim to avalanche, storm or strife

The painted landscape has begun to fade

No more winds of gold, nor leaves of jade

No more songs to rustle gently through the glades

But be glad the natural world has not fully grayed.