A landscape of white desert
Nothing but howling of the wind
being torn by sleeping claws of trees
Each wooden stump a tombstone
engraved “2005 A devoted Mother”

But in this time of rest and death
the sun conspires with
the moon, the sky and stars
And with wiccan like chants
and native tribal dance

they splatter the ground with
a concoction of love
so powerful to wake the infinite slumber
And slowly from faded calling
she claws through the soil

With sweat and ache
her joints pop and muscles shake
Finally she peaks just one finger
above the ground
Above her white grave

And on the
fingers tip
a bud
of pink.

Forward

2 months, 2 weeks ago by Nick K.