The bark is flaking.

With each step, their livelihoods crunch away.

Their dryness is so great.

They sweat only when it rains.

No birds chirping.

Just spiders left shivering.

No green.

Just orange and yellow.

But so at peace.

Wind like song.

And silence-like rhythm.

This is the beauty of decay.

And the aged trees

The old wooden bench

Alongside the no longer drenched leaves

Its fall so no rainfall

As the echoes call one another

I could smell the decaying plants and the soil

Moss covered patches of bare earth trying to start again

The wind whispered through the trees almost haun]ting

The bird houses sat abandoned and empty like this garden

My feet sunk into the soil when I walked

The wooden benches sat rotting into the ground

Bricks of the building stacked up like a prison surrounding the garden

Roots of the trees sticking out like a black eye

The sewer echoed back to the wind mourning the place it once was

Remains fallen, old, and wilting.

The crunch of leaves when you enter.

Soil and dirt invade the nostrils.

Echoing voices fill the hollow space.

Somehow someway there is peace.

As old and unkept as it may be.

In this windy fall

And gloomy air

Harmony is reached.

I smelled the crisp cold air

As it carried falling leaves 

To the ground

Only to be crushed 

under the pressure of my feet

As I strolled across the courtyard

On a brisk autumn afternoon. 

Red leaves fall to the ground

Still alive to be stepped on 

The soil is wet 

The benches are cold

To look up at backlit branches 

The sky so purely blue 

The tree that’s dead

Grabs you from behind 

It’s limbs sticking out to poke

Trying to catch you like a breath 

The spider as still as a rock

Familiar with the murmurs of death 

It’s very existence on the chopping block 

Feaverish crunching of leaves beneath anticipatory feet 

Sweet air

Crisp in nature

Humidity sticks, though

preventing sweet sweet winter 

    Against my face 

    The loud sound of 

    Crushing leaves circling around me

    As i see the ripe yet blooming 

     Leaves dancing in the wind

     Breathing in earths soil as

    I take in each breathe 

    The outside was so open

     Yet i felt so suffocated. 

I caught a glance of leaves on the ground and rotating plants due to the cold

Scattered around the area was pottery uncomplicated and abandoned.

The sound of crunching leaves and the wind blowing as if the area is telling me my present is not wanted here and is shouting at me to leave.

The wind brought forth nice icy fresh air but colder wind flowed as if it had small shares of ice and brought the rotting leaves and dirt off the ground.

The icy wind started blowing harder hitting my face

The peach tea I just had before this and with the dirt mixed due to the wind

Had left me with a terrible bitter taste in the mouth

The cool wind blows through my hair.

The smell around me has an interesting stench.

I don’t like sitting on this old dirty bench.

I taste the crispness in the atmosphere.

I can hear cars on the rock road just from sitting right here.

I see trees, trees, some bricks, and more trees.

I think being out there for that long gave me fleas.

Sun shines,

Warm rays,

But the chill in the air

Blows the warmth away

Dead leaves 

Replaced with 

New weeds.

Abandoned feeders, 

A sad fairy house,

And broken pottery. 

Cold breezes whirling, 

With memories

Of a once lively place. 

The earth taking back,

What it once gave. 

Serenity at last, 

Peace in the garden. 

The Wind blowes,

The birds fly away,

The leaves crunch as I walk over them, 

Sitting on the bench,

I began to think,

Is life really just dead leafs.

A rushing urge to flee the unknown.

These empty branches waved urgantly,

They shook in a way that was frightening.

I looked at what they revealed,

To check what they wanted 

Yet, a wall of a building unknown,

Limited my view of the suns light.

Crunching leaves echoed cries,

In this forest where lost souls comprise.

Unseen eyes, a frightening gaze,

Watching my steps in a frightening daze.

Fate, chosen by a higher power controls,

A future decided by unknow scrolls.

Amidst damp decay, the trees weep,

In the chilling embrace of secrets deep.

These trees are now my home, 

I continue to fear the unknown

This place was once home to colorful and flourishing  life and smiling faces 

Now this place is just a grave to the beautiful life that was once here 

I step out into the now-lifeless graveyard 

I hear the leaves crunch and echo underneath my feet as I walk 

chilling winds blow in my face

And the smell of mud filled my lungs 

It's sad to think about but is this all to life?

Just life and death.

As i leave this deserted graveyard i see a single beautiful dandelion 

Emerging out of the ashes of the fallen 

maybe they aren't truly gone

maybe this isn't so bad

echo

A mushroom house

Ruins of ancient 

Civilizations 

Lush greenery 

Yellow flowers 

Symbols of natural

Beauty 

Natural, moist dirt

Artifical, plastic clay

Yet somehow, all in one

The essence

Of Mother

Earth 

A breath different from indoors

Flowers bloom

In a place surrounded by stone

Thriving despite location

Birds chirp

Harmonized with the subtle wind

Free from the closed garden

Would not

Grow enough to see its perfection.

The songs of an

Repeating note,

Of angels singing

Dreams waiting to grow into 

Something rather than nothing

The bitter nectar of all

With one to help

Develop its growth by

just a drop of

Green thumb water

A Canvas of life in the peaceful hush

Sun blazing paths where wildflowers sway 

Nature’s Beauty on a grand display 

I´m filled with life

But finally, I hear the whines

The crash of the air conditioning

Pausing the sun from glistening

Oh, how I was fooled.

The rose-colored glasses finally removed

Sitting there I see

Grey plastic bags

Bright red rulers

Even crumpled-up paper

Ruining the beauty that is nature

It was just a few little ¨accidents¨

But Mother Nature didn´t see that

When she died at the hands of Ritenour students

The old, tangled and lost 

The new bright and green 

Beautiful and free 

Flowers for the bees 

Something something trees 

Where the little bird feeds 

Overhead a plane

Smell of old rain

Bench with a grass stain

Wind combs the leaves 

Mac pulling the weeds

Plastic and products hinder the view and potential of sprouts and bushes

Benches and “art” are placed in her womb to “beautify” and make her usable

But she is ruined instead.

Her cool breeze and violent sun are obstructed by mans creation

Lush sprouts and bushes cut down to institutionalize 

But when her plants and anger seize the “art” that defiled her

And nature makes it her own

Her soft leaves and cool breeze will return once more

And her powerful breeze and song-filled birds will belt their song again

Manmade work taints the purity of nature 

But man cannot pollute her to the point of no return

When the buildings crumble 

And she reclaims what is hers 

Mud will squelch under our toes

And her pungent earthy smell will penetrate our senses again

Without man to tell us it is wrong

Tall trees sway with grace,

Their verdant leaves whisper secrets untold.

A symphony of chirps and tweets,

As birds dance in sunlit feats,

Their melodies weave tales of old.

only seen as a face covered by the leaves

lined up in position

It stared back trying to stand out against the

glowing chlorophyll filled blades

The fresh air brought back a spin of memories

Before the refusal of light

Before allergies

Before the enclosure of everyone against the fluorescent light

The grey figure kept its ominous presence

You dont step on it

Stare for one second before changing focus

Bird snacks

Sneaky hose

Predisposed dandelions

The florets are getting ready to live a full life before once again becoming the white seedlings

Redolence of the wind closed off

With a little laughter and a slight reek of mulch

And my eyes were fascinated as a

its light alluringly kisses the leaves on the tree.

And the wind brings me

the smell of dirt,

the smell of grass,

the smell of life.

confined and spacious.

The inhabitants 

range from calm to ferocious.

With birds,

bugs,

mosquitoes,

and bees;

The garden stays lively 

among other things.

With warmth from the sun

 and a cool spring breeze.

This confined space 

seems like a forest of dreams.

Green filling my vision.

My hands gripping the tape on my camera, pictures with great precision.

My friends together laughing, nothing can ruin this flow. 

Admiring all sides of nature.

The air damp on my tongue,

we call that H20.

All these chemical compounds,

Can you imagine the all the nomenclature?

Besides me birds and bugs, crawling the revived stems.

No global warming, shut up you dirty dems.

Its like i just flow with the wind 

I'm just there 

I'm that ant that's all alone 

Looking for something great 

Just so i can go back to the colony and feel 

Some sense of accomplishment 

Im that bird tweeting 

But You here the same bird over and over 

Just talking to themself 

Because they know no one will understand them anyway 

I feel as fragile as a dandelion that has already turned 

You pick me up just to make your wish come true 

But i'll just float away after you use me 

That dry flower you see outside

Thats old and crinkled up 

Its like that because someone gave up on it 

They didn't see the value

In something that could've been so beautiful 

seeing flowers surrounding me the garden is still

different flows of the wind fill my ears.

music calms everything within me.

the ants march throughout the garden like soldiers on the hunt for survival.

spider webs fill the trees growing different heights beyond with every step I take.

the taste of crips air settles on my tongue.

my hands brush through the spikes on the weeds blooming.

the garden is hidden from everyone but me.

swaying 

The wind 

Blowing 

As if to get attention

There was no scent

But then 

there was a crisp taste to the air

In gardens where flowers drip with morning dews

Petals of color, vibrant and bright,

Under the sun, a delightful sight.

Butterflies move around in dance so free,

Amongst the blooms, where they love to be.

A gentle breeze whispers through the leaves,

In gardens where nature quietly weaves.

A place of peace, a tranquil retreat,

Where every visit feels oh so sweet.

In the heart of green, life finds its tune,

In gardens that flourish, in the light of the moon.

The air is warm

And the dirt squishes under my feet

The calm nature is disturbed 

By the man made whirring of machines 

The sights ultimately distracted

By an unending buzzing

Cutting through the air

My back is warm

My feet are warm

The sun is bright

The air smells like soil

My heart feels at home.

Breathe in the humid air

Exhale and watch your breath send the bugs

That were circling your head 

Flying

Tilt your head towards the sun.

Bask in it's warmth on your face

Let your ears be filled with

The sweet humming

Of a lonesome songbird

Turn to the ground.

Feel your hands clench in sympathetic agony

Remembering long days spent

Pulling weeds and dead trees

From the unyielding ground

Lower yourself to the ground

Lay down in the shallow patch of moss

Grown over the dull tarps that cover the soil

They tried to stomp life out

It persisted.

Neglected

The only things left are broken.

Broken bench

Broken pottery

My soul aches

as I stand on the uneven ground.

The building surrounds

this little neglected garden

and hums.

But fear not little garden

the birds still love you

and sing

so that you may come back to life.

Gives me a glimpse of tranquality 

Hearing the birds chirping 

Almost like a lullaby, 

Feeling so close to the trees

As I rest my legs on the muddy dirt, 

Why am I at peace? 

Oh right, I’m the sun shinning in between the trees. 

Leaves at the end

Flowers on the ground

while the sun beams down

As i step over green and grass and life

I tend to remember that we are not the only things alive

I say all this to show

that spring is better because there is no snow.

A living floor of lush greens

woven into the tattered tarps

Weather worn benches

lost to time

A place long abandoned

Covered in bitter dandelions and crumbling trees.

echoes with the snap of the leaves

the surviving vines bristle with a fur that has no hair,

the green blinds your vision, their gaps bring in the blinding light of the star in the sky

the trash sprinkled about is a sore view

but at least it's still nature

Like the leaves that surround me

The crumpled ones scattered across the grass

The ever changing ones decorating the branches.

Without the sun

These things are dead

Without the warmth

They are “nothing”

The air is crisp

its lifeless

Its purpose has evaporated

The cold stings my teeth

Paints my hands pink

I am much like nature

My color also fades to dim

My light also darkens

My soul numbs with my fingertips

I am much like nature 

I dont know if thats good

Left alone in the cold

Is that my own doing?

I am much like the world around me

Dry and empty as the trees

I am much like nature

Waiting for the sun to return

Then I can be whole!

Then my branches will fill!

I will brighten with the flowers

Life will begin once more
I’ll be proud to say

I am much like nature. 

Cold air hits my face

I start to shiver

I see a pink morning glory with

a white star in the middle

I heard the wind howling

and blowing the smell of tea

the taste of my minty gum made my

mouth cold

and my warm pockets made me

sleepy

wet leaves

walking through the breeze

smell of fresh air

dark gloomy clouds

I start to breathe

and felt the warmth

of peace

That's nature for you though

The flowers have died 

cold breeze has picked up 

And leaves crunch when you walk 

But one thing stands  

This one purple flower 

The hope of summer light slightly still there

But its 

November

in a land where dead leaves

fall as they crumble

on the rough dirt mixing

into

its foundation

and losing their greenish hue.

as winter is soon coming

dead branches

snap as they

fall from the rough tree

slowly losing the beauty

they once had.

the flowers that once bloomed here

has withered away with the chilling air

you can taste the

sharpness in the air

winter is near.

to leaves falling into soft grounds

birds chirping in the air of sweet candy

elegant soft grounds feel like

comfortable pillows

fall is coming to an end.

Crisp air whispers cool and sweet
Crunching rhythm beneath my feet

The smell of fall earthy and bright
Wraps the world in warm delight

A fleeting season short and fair
Magic lingers in the air

trees stretching like prayers to the sky,

flowers waking with trembling color,

and broken pottery surrendering to soil

a quiet reclaiming.

I heard

the chorus of birdsong overhead,

the sharp snap of restless branches,

and the distant growl of machines

gnawing at the silence.

I smelled

a tangle of life and loss

sweet pollen dancing with the sharp bite of pollution,

beneath it all, the dark breath of rot and decay.

I tasted

the dryness of air baked in sun,

the grit of earth on my tongue

I touched

cold air that wrapped my skin like fog,

the scratch of bare branches

and the rough memory of porous clay

crumbling.

In the secret garden 

Birds chirping I heard 

In the secret garden 

The fresh breeze I smelled as it blew softly past my nose 

In the secret garden 

The bark on the trees I tasted as opened my mouth singing quietly along with the birds 

In the secret garden 

The blooming yellow flowers the gently brushed against my leg as I walked 

In my secret garden 

the purple flowers being stepped on

I can see the spider webs holding on for dear life

I can see trees of green

I can hear birds chirping

the wind rustling the leaves

I can hear the faintness of my music

I can hear birds chirping

I can smell how earthy the trees are

the smell of food floating in from across the street

I can smell how clean the air is

I can smell how earthy the trees are

I can taste how earthy the wind blows

the taste of my left over drink

I can taste the reason nature is beautiful

I can taste how earthy the wind blows

I touched the abandoned spider web

the feeling of the silk and sap from the tree

I was touched how the gust of wind felt beautiful

I touched the abandoned spider web

• Leyla Payton

This trash got here

Left a bad taste in my mouth

I heard the crackle

Of twigs under

Peoples feet 

And felt the brittle

Branches snapping in my hand

But despite that 

I saw plants persevere

springing back to life

And smelled the

Crisp freshness of

Plants flourishing

by its maker

Smelled and tasted

the clear air

it was prepared for rain,

While it warmed

one side of my body and

cooled the other.

I heard the birds

that the air

had prepared for

and heard the leaves crunch

under my feet.

Feel

The snow chilly winds

The sad flowing leafs

A ting spice taste on your tongue

Each crunchy step taking

As the purple petals dance

And the loud singing trees,

And the cries from the wind

That reaches

For a hand

The reason it was secret

I saw potential

I saw what once was art

Now its a million pieces 

I heard 

Woosh

Woosh

The blissful wind

Kissing my ear 

Tickling my nose 

I smelled pollution 

I tasted freshness 

Or maybe mint 

From the gum 

I so gracefully am chewing 

I touched a corpse 

Of art 

I touched what once 

Was someones vision 

Story

Past

I touched a soul 

From a time ago

They might not

 know me or this 

But they're  secret is 

Dead

Although 

The vision 

remains .

In tan, dead grass

Wearing plastic bags

And candy wrappers

As jewelry

She hangs broken artwork

On her walls

Trying to cover up

The motionless brick wall

That surrounds her

On the outside

She's covered in

Shadows along with

Droopy white flowers

But when you grow closer

You notice the sun shining

Through her

Leafless branches

You notice in the middle

Of her dying garden

She's covered in

Bright yellow dandelions

Patches of beautiful

Purple flowers

And grass greener than

her tired eyes

To her surprise

She finally realizes

She's no longer covered in

The things she despises

Cool refreshing air 

As I walk 

I trip 

A little mushroom house

Red and white

I little man pops out

“WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOUR WALKIN!”

I step on him 

Silence…

I proceed

Brushing my hand against trees

The brittle bark breaks 

I punch it 

Birds chirp in anger

I burn them 

Silence…

I proceed 

I meet two fine gentlemen 

Humming and buzzing about

Causing a disturbance 

I enjoy them 

They make me happy 

I live with them

I sleep with them

             I destroy for them 

The sun, beaming a ray,

 highlighting the beauty of the leaves on the vine. 

Yellow, green, pink, 

Almost like a colorful staircase in the air. 

I heard the cars, the AC, the machinery that shouldn’t be. 

Disturbing peace,

The plants and the trees, 

Are disgusted and flee away, 

From something unfamiliar. 

I smelled fresh air, 

Finally air, 

Air that was not contaminated, 

Air that was cleaned from the dearest, 

Cleaned from the green friends, 

From the ground under me, 

And above me. 

Wanting to give love, 

I caress the flowers, 

Bluebells, violets, and whites, 

Admiring their beauty, 

I couldn’t take my hands off. 

Wanting to take one with me, 

But i knew it was wrong, 

For if I were to be selfish, 

My dear would no longer be beautiful. 

Small brown clay pottery vase scattered like hidden traps

BAM! Rolled my ankle landed on my face eating the cold mushy dirt

Getting up a tiny yellow and black bee zoomed into my mouth

Ow! It’s razor sharp stringer immobilized my sore tongue

Now I pulled myself on top of the ancient bench

felt the rough bark against my skin

the calm smell of wood.

soft secrets beneath the sky's wide room,

I heard the wind and voices blend,

a song that never seemed to end

I smelled the earth, humid and near,

green breaths of nature, warm and clear.

I tasted sunlight on my tongue

a golden note the morning sung

I touched the petals, silk and shy

a quiet thrill beneath the sky.

my head like a dumbbell weight.

The sun's ray envelops my skin

I start to see the purple weeds

The spiraling leaves become to a twist

but my cold heart is connected to the spider webs that stick.

I am scared of the gardens embrace, my woody skin only knows how to shiver.

The wind blows

The branches crush

I feel it's warmth, but can anyone see it's sun?