©By Joan Estelle High

The Earth is like a living thing of beauty and delight.
Dancing in the sunshine and in the dark of night
The Earth is our mother, flowers woven in her hair.
The Moon  our brother escaped his mother's care.

He drifted away from home but didn't wonder too far.
The Sun is our father ; you could say he is the star.
The falling rain is our mother Earth's sweet breath.
That condenses back to bath her in drops of dew.
Then start the process over and life's cycle to renew.

The Sun warms the Earth with beams of gold sunlight
The Moon reflects his father's light in the darkest night.
Mother Earth nurtures and brings forth seed in season.
If we some times  lack, be sure she is not the reason.

She is good at bringing forth much more than we need.
Lack is just a case of distribution and too much greed.
Like any mother, I know she wishes we were sweeter.
Quit trashing her space and keep the place much neater.

We suck fluids from her breast to squander and to waste.
We are stripping  the land of her trees at an alarming pace
Sometimes we're just too lazy, sometime we don't care.
We poison everything like crazy and then pollute our air.

We are the size of insects in the grand scheme of things.
With  but  gnat sized brains and funny hopes and dreams.
I'd bet that mother Earth often after we are fast asleep.
Sits down like a sad mother and  cries herself to sleep.


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