I see Nature not as my Mother

                                                  but rather as my Wild Sister.



  not all centers..                                                                                                                                         



in the Storms she looks over, winks maybe                                                 

       her blond hair going down

                                   with a laugh.


later may be tears.

Rivers.                                                                          



                                                                               Regrets, loving too much 
                                                             though in our embrace

we know we love not enough.



Sister we move together.
kinship of shared loss

and rejoice Wild.                                                                                                                           

                                   
                                  return to flow home page