Lightning

“Are you ready?” Tim asked.

“Somewhat,” Clara answered, holding a child by the hand. “Who can be? Are you?”

“You want to know like the rest of us,” interjected another neighbour.

“It won’t be pretty,” Tim struggled, unable to say more.

A shuttle-bus pulled up to take them, along with others. They drove down Main Street. Shock froze their faces. Some sobbed.

“Mother nature started it,” the driver said, shaking his head.

Lightning struck the forest outside town limits. Wind fueled the flames in the direction of their town.

“My house is gone,” Clara choked back tears. “Yours too, Tim?”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

The Curse Of Forest Mother

Muma is crying like a child while we are watching the river runs red and dead. The hills above us are crumbling away into the deep, giant sinkholes. The ancient forests are cut down or burned. Muma's hand is so cold, her body is trembling like a leaf. Muma's lips are motionless but I can hear her silent curse…

Now I understand the meaning of those untold words and feel the real wonder and power of her inner voice. The end is near because we are human and humans must be punished for all crimes against our dear Mother Nature.

From Guest Contributor Ivan Ristic

Rain

Music is flowing around me, thought a little flower bud as it shyly opened its dewy new petals. A quiet, peaceful melody of streams of gray pouring from a cloudy sky, framed by cooling rhythm of beads of water hitting cement nearby, thrumming on rooftops of homes around its garden, drumming against wooden walls, staccato taps on glass panes. Wavering patterns of drizzle and downpour, whispers of gentle wind through branches of trees, and drips from pools of water on lush green leaves, add a dulcet cadence, forming a tender harmony to welcome this year’s refreshing renewal of mother nature.From Guest Contributor Sara Light

Sara lives in Chicago and writes poetry, fiction, and children's stories. In her spare time, she likes to paint and read. Find her on twitter @SaraLight19, and on her website, saralight.blog.

Mother Nature Always Wins

NATURE SUBMISSION:

When you push the envelope, sometimes the envelope pushes back.

The architects and the engineers were certain that their calculations were correct. The bridge would save time and effort when driving across the sound. The financing was in place after years of wrangling. The bridge was inaugurated with great fanfare.

The Williwaw was the locals’ name for the wind that came from the north. High winds were not unusual, and the designers of the bridge had accounted for them. Mother Nature didn’t know the words “vortex shedding” or “aeroelastic flutter.” But she didn’t need words, she just needed the wind.

From Guest Contributor Janice Siderius

Sirens

He’d risen early this morning to plan the house his wife had dreamed of, but the hilltop’s stark beauty had rooted him to the spot.

His tea got cold.

It suddenly seemed a travesty to spoil the land’s personality.

Don’t seek to dominate, Mother Nature whispered, explore me as you would a lover.

He felt his pulse race at the imagery. There were enticing little copses in his eye line.He wondered if Elaine was up for–

“GRAHAM!” Her voice scattered the erotic thoughts.

He sighed and slouched towards the mobile home.

“Coming.”

He reflected on the nature of sirens.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid