Allures

Nature beckons with quiet clues,
Enticing beast and plant with subtle hues,
Or smells, or sights, or inner drives,
Ordering the pattern of myriad lives,
And deaths, and lives once more.

The bee is drawn to roses' red,
The rose — a tart — it's pollen shed,
Upon the breeze, or shifting air,
Connive the thieves within their lair,
Flower and insect in grand encore.

And creatures strive to play along,
The eating, breathing, yeah mating throng,
Lovely and terrible, in tooth and claw,
In living, in dying, in holy awe,
From ground below, to distant shore.

And when life's force is sorely spent,
Nature reclaims what she has lent,
To beast, or plant, woman or man,
Proteins, minerals, consumed by land,
For to be leased out once more.

The story's written within our genes,
Our loves and hates, and every scene,
In birth, in love, in passion's ways,
So compelled are we in all our days,
It is as was, as ever before.