My Mother: The Earth

I was born in the morning

when the wind's gentle hands

would fly past me- laughing

should we run through the land

I was born as the birds were

under the eaves

of a soothing huckleberry

with dancing young leaves

I was raised in a cradle

of valleys and hills

of floating bark- boats

on old river mills

I was raised as my sister was

on hot soup and hot teas

on love everlasting

on sweet gifts from the bees

I have died in the evening

Though death shall not leave me alone

I sleep in my mother's  warm embrace

Even as bones