The Beauty of Nature

The Beauty of Nature
There's poetry in the sound of Robin, whistling throughout the forest in glee with not a worry in the world.
There's poetry in the shadows of the sun seeping through the windowsill, forming the silhouette of a lost soul.
There's poetry in the fall of a leaf, everything is still and quiet, another year goes by.
There's poetry in the light trinkle of snow, a magical but mortal wonder slowly freezing over the lake, a spell casted by ice wizards.
There's poetry in the spiders that lurk the forest, their webs an intriguing trap, your body coated in silk. You cannot move and you begin to panic, however, soon it will be over, they inject a destructive poison.