Challenging Poetry

my changing landscape

I am a garden waiting to be planted,
nothing but weeds and rocky soil.
I am a wood, deep and overgrown
tall, shaded, short, green, growing.
I am the tide crashing against rocks,
depositing creatures to be examined
in pools I leave behind.
I am a mountain, alone and wind battered.
I am a valley, etched and sculpted by
wind and water.
I am a cliff, jutting new and clean
after an earthquake.
I am quicksand.
I am the Badlands, sand dunes shaped
and ever changing with the wind so the path
within me are never the same.
I am the desert after a rainstorm,
clean, fresh, blooming,
ready to begin again.

April 13—Describe yourself as landscape