A grayed moon gleamed close Surrounded by flowing blackness, Like dense blades of grass. I focused my mind on what this was
By Caitlin Rimmer6 years ago in Poets
Can I speak with Mother Nature? A creator, queen of our Earth, as forth she birthed the beauty of land and sea. Things grow lively
My mother was in the kitchen Speckled, vinyl floors, and smooth, white counters Among pale-painted walls, with an oval, yellowed light.
A peaceful hum from her methodic mixer, As secret tastes were twirled together, Lured in her focused eyes. With graceful fingers dusted in flour,