I danced through the forest at fall of night,
By guardian mountains and faithful streams,
To where an old lady sat, in ramshackle cabin porch,
Her hands are deeply grained with living cares,
Her face is old, her eyes are wise,
She smiled, we sat, she read my heart,
She looked about us, and waived her arm,
This is Mother Earth, she whispered in my mind,
And all the trees began to shimmer in energetic haze,
Wreathed forms melted away, pure being revealed.
© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.