Sunday, May 15, 2011

Mother Shade and Shadow

In her lap, as I had always
Imagined.
The rough bark of her roots rose and
Fell,
Going deep
Into the rich, black soil.
Rising tall,
Reaching for the baby blue
Sky.
Each leaf bowing down
To its creator.
Proud as a tree that refuses to
Bend
With the beating of the brazen winds.
Humble as the servant
In a royal court;
Gently fanning the spawn of its
Master.