Mother Earth Poem by ray summer

Whispers of time in the breath of the wind,
and trees stand painted in moving light,
where rivers carve the earths deep veins,

and the sun pours its gold over the day,
leaving only the scent of a forgotten years,
the skys appearance is the painters canvas,

brushed with the hues of a cobalt sea,
and the mother earth murmurs secrets,
in the rustle of leaves in the creeks ripples,

while the mountains mist is cold and alive,
stands as a witness to the passages of time,
and all that lives drifts like dust on the breeze.