Upon your lap, my Mother Earth,
I listen to the river's song,
of renewal and rebirth,
that calls me home where I belong.
Like a tree, my roots go down,
deeply where there is no sound,
only earthworms burrowing,
through hallowed ground.
Like a tree, when harsh winds blow,
that assault me, then grow still,
the fickle weather helps me grow,
changing me, as weather will.
Like a tree, my centre lies
where human folly is forsaken.
Your heartbeat says:
Endure. Just wait.
These earthlings one day
from 2014 - shared with earthweal's open link