She is calling.

The tree dancing;
her branches sway with
the wind’s once gentle song.
Returning to the center;
I hear the earth’s mother.
She is reciting a cautious tale,
of sorrow;
and hopeful resilience.
Her tears dripping with the winters
final snow.
The damage of many
requires one
to heed; to listen to the mother’s ancient tale;
a story woven within our egocentric heart.
Our souls once depended on all of the living
to tend
to grow
to live and die
as one.
We must listen
to our mother.

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