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The Mother

The Mother of the Rivers

The Mother of the Mountains

The Mother of the Trees

The Mother of the mud and magma, her primordial ooze that made man.

And the Mothers in the wind, that dance amongst the starlit trails

and leave their footprints in the sand.

Daughters and sisters plucked like poppies and papaya; ripened at first moon but sweet-tart before then.

Fair trade?

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Firmament...Say it out loud Doesn't it sound when it rolls from the tongue like something solid underneath the feet A place that births bursts of light, sweet green things? The kind of thing or place


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