PALETA II
70 Hear the birds chirping, abruptly flying; feel the cool breeze hastily blowing. See dark clouds hurled rushing above; damp land bathed, pouring raindrops. Doors locked, eyes closed; pray and linger, I chose. Upheaval sooner is over; Heaven opens, relives in clover. But wait, notice, concern our milieu: land expanse devastated, relinquished. Flora and fauna, another perish. What have we done? What can we do? I love it when she hides her half-top often than not under thick fog. Wishin’ Banahaw cures herself naturally. But in reality she’s crying silently, seeking our remedy secretly, hoping to heal the scars and melancholy. Heed her revival, prepare our survival; dare to act now or risk life abysmal.
by STEPHANIE L. REA
Mount for Life
