Spring after spring they grow from the once slumbering seeds, Beautiful, untamed and rise to greet the summer sun. Opening their faces, painting the tree lines, hillsides and valleys With an array of colors no artists palette could truly match. They bear the fruit of their pollen and welcome their winged and buzzing friends with open arms. Rooted they stand in the knowing of their own unique beauty, each blossom different from the rest. Lupine does not wish to be a sunflower, Nor does the daisy long to be a rose. The wildflowers let themselves be Just as they are. Why, then, do I wish to be anything other than myself? Poem by Felicia White After a major loss in my family, I found writing as a way to heal, as well as discover parts of me that became buried in the rubble of life. I took to Mother Nature after becoming a mother myself. I love to write and share my experiences in nature, as well as compare it to our lives as humans, exposing how similar the human experience and natural world really are.