My Mothers House


When I start to see long shadows
When I feel wind from the south
It's then I hear my Mother singing
As she prepares her evening house.

Smell the scents of daylong baking
Warm ripened fruits, moist dirt, sweet grass
Insects keep a natural rhythm
As she prepares her evening house

Waters cold, receive my body
Gently currents, seek my soul
My Mother sings a song of healing
As she prepares her evening house

Softly falls the shining starlight
While westward sun withdraws his light
Moving on the moon path with her
I enter in her evening house.

And when my life is seen long shadowed
May I feel once more wind from the south
Then join with her in ageless singing
And rest me in her evening house.

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