Mother

The elegance of a woman.

She’s down to earth, yet her essence soars high above the stars.

Honest, unpredictable maybe, yet fair in all her dealings.

The binder of strength and unity, and the bonding of man and beast.

Her policies are fierce in the jungle, yet her soft ripples glisten the blue sheet.

King of the jungle depends on the Queen of the land.

Mother Earth.

Igneous, metamorphic and calcareous rocks to topaz, diamond and gold.

Soils that are rich and fertile to the oldest decomposition, of petroleum and coal.

Jewels of Sweet Jasmines to Orchids to Lotus and dear thorny Rose.

Italian bees to Little bees  thrive on the sugary nectar, which seep from your darling creations.

Cherry blossoms to  breeze balloon and the majestic banyan tree.

They grow to mark your different aspirations.

Your beautiful stature, rounded hills, and deep valleys, to your wise words that speak in bubbles and trinkets of gorges, brimming rivers and waterfalls.

Parts of you enticingly crackle in the heat of the deserts, and parts of you clash and crack  at the poles.

Such diversity, such artistic intricacy enchants not just one, but the living life cupped safely in your palms.

Carbon dioxide, nitrogen, argon and oxygen synchronize in perfect amounts and perfect harmony acknowledging your humble pleasant nature.

The winds blow lightly enabling pollination and the ozone layer guards all from extensive exposure of the harshest rays.

Your perfect composition of flavours cannot be imitated which speaks the raw truth of your nature and realness.

You provide shelter to all that inhabit you, the mynahs and cuckoos sing sweet tunes of your generosity.

Each have a home in your home. Spiders accustomed to their webs, and frogs on lilly-pads.

Ranging from the deep blue sea to land to air.

As the fireball bids goodbye, a canvas of blush she paints.

As the sun-kissed forehead exhibits the end of the day.

Patches of maple and splotches of apple swirl in a stewy custard evening stuck above.

Slowly her art fades into dimness, seizing along with it all visibility.

Black brilliance cuddles all as a mother would.

Tranquility speaks, in hush notes of her caresses, as we sleep.

She spins on.

____________________

© Copyright  2011-2016 A Cup of Strawberries

All Rights Reserved

 

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Published in: on December 24, 2011 at 9:24 AM  Leave a Comment  

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