She grows life

My mother is soil and rain,
clay, ash, sand, sun and moonlight.
My mother is a weeping willow—
strong, daring, dripping.
My mother is oceans so salty and wild
she can consume whole cities—
but, mostly, she chooses to be calm turquoise,
washing softly over toes in sand.
She is vast—
some places un-navigated.
She is offering, felt without words, sacred, and restful.
She grows life.
—mother/Mother Earth