Lay her blanket down, rest her weary soul.
stretched long and lean, upon the earth she lay…graceful.
To me, The mountain always looks like a woman sleeping on her side.
Curves rise and fall, a hip a shoulder, a peek a ridge.
Limbs resting, creating valleys wide.
My heart desperately wants to merge with hers.
I want to call her mother. I want her to reach out and pull me close to her.
The mist rising in the morning, the heat radiating at day, the moon shinning down at night
each changing the color of the blanket that Protects her.
Protecting us…this is my longing.
I long for her breath to be my breath, her calm-my calm.
But for now, I breathe in her sight.
Mother
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