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Blue Water, Green Tree
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| She carries him like a mother carries
her child, but he's her husband, trusts him like the sands that slip through her fingers at the beach, Loves him like an oak loves water. Born on the Mississippi, she's known water, Water as deep and dark as Mississippi mud, or as clear as Bahama breezes Water as cold as a hail storm, and hard as a steel door. Water that closed around like death, as you wait to exhale. He is her water; she is his tree. He runs, plays, visiting the beaches. She stands toweringly waiting. He rages, rips houses apart, but just rolls around her roots, snagging only clumps of clay. He gurgles bubbled melodies to her whistle in he wind. He complements her, supplies her, feeds her. Happily incompatible, they feed each other, separate, but joined by life. Moody like the moon, his tide waxes and wanes, waxes and wanes, She stands- rings centuries around her stature, holds the wealth of a million generations of motherlover sense in her outstretched arms. Her leaves fall in to his ripples, a million tears of change floating away to settle and fertilize the world. |
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Written By:merari mcfarland
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E-mail: dmcfarland@houston.rr.com
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Submitted: March 25, 2000
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