Nature's Ink

Img_4870by Hazel Thomas14 Jan 2015

When the ink pot has run dry
I’ll put down my pen and rest
To wait once more
For thoughts to fly
Like birds from their nest

When trees are trimmed of fruitful flowers
That brush the branches through the breeze
When fields are flocked with passing powers
Of man wielding the winter weeds
Shall my pen’s pot flow again
Filling with nature’s ink
The black river which holds the words
That make a writer think.