if we were to personify, I'd call nature a teen with anger issues. for someone as such, I wouldn't bother worshipping her in my poems and I've a disdain feeling towards her being but that- that's the end of my being inside out. because when she breathes, that's the awakening for us all.
as I look for beauty in nature I see a dispassionate teen, beautiful in all the chaos imploding from within, shining at calmest presence, self reliant and insecure. mostly insecure.
she wears a grey sky, weeps 'til clouds run dry and turn pale, frowns and snorts. her anguish, wild but ravishing as a lightning shudders onto the earth and everything in her arms brawls in discomfort; rivers goes off bonkers, mountains shrugs a little, and land lies lazy in a giddy mood.