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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Gone are the fields of winter white soon to be replaced by hues of greens and yellows, in the interim, fields of barren brown and dirty gold turned, to breathe warm air from departed winter chill Plumes of black and gray from mans machine kneading the back of Mother Earths desire, before impregnating her with the many seeds that will produce offspring to quench mans many needs oh, how lonesome she looks, so alone holding yet to some remnants of children past, left only to cradle her dead, left by man yearning to suckle new life, as only a Mother can Above, from the heavens, Father prepares to germinate those so many seeds, with life sustaining necessities only he is allowed sunlight and life giving rain, loosened from the clouds within days Mother is impregnated she can feel the multitudes of organic life, moving within her womb, yearning,growing, needing the escape, to be warmed and nourished by the Sun Minutes turn to hours, hours to days suddenly weeks pass,and yet another life, giving rain, descends from guilded clouds arms and fingers, of her children, open, sustained nearing the end of a warm and wonderful summer it is time for Fathers other children, to reap what he has sewn time for Mother Earth to let her children go My, how they have grown, tall,lush and full of the fruit they were meant to bear, to provide nourishment for the masses of seeds grown to maturity, in need from the father Again, the gray black plumes of mans machine come to life, they move through her fields, her children, like a predator among prey until, she is left again, with remnants of children past Soon she will be blanketed again in winter white gone will be the warm breath of life, her children taken from her, she is again barren only to be betrothed to a promise of new life. I wrote this on a day trip to Illinois from Iowa across wide open farm land. God Bless....Taz
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