I’ve heard of your forest goddess,
a watery wood nymph with mossy hair,
watching large beasts with Her dark green eyes —
but She is not mine.
is a desert diva –
so beaming bright She pinks your cheeks,
challenges with heat,
and speaks of survival amongst prickly things.
She’s the quiet mover,
the butterflies in my belly,
the wind that jumps wholeheartedly into
She teaches patience with thorns,
beauty within scarcity.
She’s a sky dweller, who will
storm the skies, with blue-gray fury
and lightning eyes.
On arid evenings, she dances
in purple painted sunsets,
whispering softly of remembrance.
Old cactus crone…
She says, “Baby,
I’ve been loved, mined, maligned and redesigned,
but you can see and I can show,
this dry Earth is richer
than you know.”
» Originally appeared in PanGaia #43 - Pagans and the Land
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