GAIA.
9/20/09
ed. 2/28/10
Among these tides,
A mother is in keeping;
Lulled by the waves, her children sleep,
The gentle sweep of seafoam greens…
That green-foamed sea,
Like mother’s hand,
Sweeps mossy locks from the pier’s brow…
Until the fingers brush upon your ear,
You too hear the ocean’s hum
Like a shell in the hands of her children.
© BLAYKE MORROW, 2009
No comments:
Post a Comment