As I sit and gaze around
Passion builds I cant make a sound
Mountains lower to rolling plain
A gentle snow turns to rain
Light beams forth from the rise of the moon
The sun set on a wind swept dune
The birth of a fawn to the doe its mother
A wife's tear at the death of her other
Many wonders nature holds
Held within her gentle folds

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Chronos, in the year 285 AF.