When on that infant morning I arose
And stood before my window gazing through,
I saw my mother dressed in misty clothes,
A-standing 'neath a clinging veil of dew.
She called to me a windy song on high
And beckoned as the trees a-swayed in dance
The birds among their twitching limbs did fly
And all did laugh at winter's countenance.
I drifted out and reached to touch the sky,
Ecstatic like a wand'ring baby lost
Returning to a bosom warm and dry
Which age had torn me from beneath his frost.
I found my mother Earth, and at her breast,
My spirit drank of all which God had bless'd.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.