An imperfect masterpiece

When I look out through my window,
I see a picture that has been painted
by Mother. With her soft hands & quill
pen, she sketches the mountains &
paints the skies. She crafts tall trees
& deep meadows. She runs her fingers
through rich soil spitting sprouts & moths.
When she smiles, sunshine rains down upon
us. Her tears give birth to new life & her
breath gives us oxygen. We cannot live
without her.

Sometimes I forget how beautiful she is
& how unique her creations are. And she
seems like this perfect beauty, unshatterable
& unbreakable. But that's not true. She breaks,
she falls apart, she cries, she fears. But
she is an imperfect masterpiece nonetheless.