Christina N. Beach
Mother Nature Leaves
Light peeks through rustling leaves as stillness creeps in mists of darkness. The holy breathe pauses to drink, gulping through straw limbs, the sweet tranquility.
M-o-t-h-e-r N-a-t-u-r-e
Weeping willows, aspen trees and bracken
Permeate the secret garden and the lake
The breeze sings softly and whisperingly,
“Come take drink and lie down to be
Slumber here, I exist only for you.”
I was your mother then, child.
Why did you leave me?
Do you remember what I said?
Yes, you screamed and turned me away
while I was still drinking.
I did, I am sorry.
Children leave this garden, slumber no longer.
Dive in deep, follow weeping willow’s tail to the
bottom corner, pull the cork and say no longer.
I do not want a river fallen, that sits in this dumb
place looking like a nest, while other rivers rush
swiftly past. I look at you and what do I see? A
cork at the bottom with a hole made for me.
Now, children follow me.
She came to life with bracken branched legs
braced with twine, rose blossom eyes,
baby breathe lips whispering a voice from the
meadow lark perched on her long and flowing
coat of wildflower meadows, she left a gaping
hole in our hearts.
Why did you come back then, mother?
It was simple really, no one to climb my limbs,
slumber on my grass, sit in my marsh and drink in my peace. And then there was you, enchanting you.
Sparkling coat tails of eyes that are
blue, bundled sweetly in buttermilk
dew. Angel head covered in smeared
cattail sod, mud caked cheeks glowing
anew. Never leave, never. Do you
hear me? I won’t ever leave, ever.
Little child of heaven’s rent, I paid
for you and so God sent. He cried one
night and made me a heaven, then
smiled when I said, “I will lay here forever.”
Mother, I am still thirsty.
Drink and slumber, I will carry you through life.
Mother Nature
Light peeks through rustling leaves as stillness creeps in mists of darkness. The holy breathe pauses to drink, gulping through straw limbs, the sweet tranquility.
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