Tender of the succulents and a daughter of earth.
She treads lightly as not to wake those below.
Ground hardened by Wind and Winters Frost
She sings softly, and bids them to grow.
And by her hand shall the eager ones rise.
Singing praises to the Goddess on high,
For she is the tender, care taker of all,
True love and affection doth ply.
>From the sumacs red breast to the bend of the willow,
She presses them on one by one.
The sunlight of Spring glows over her shoulder,
Soon now, her work will be done.
When everything blooms and smiles like a garden
She’ll stand back to survey her work.
Soft like a songs continuous playing,
She hears their faint call from the earth.
They sing her praises, they sing to the sunshine,
They sing to the Mother of all.
For the tender who greets them, so fondly did meet them,
Has helped them to stand proud and tall.
© Judy Sammons
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