Mother Nature, Daughter Summer

Her thoughts flit across her mind,
like dragonflies amidst flimsy flowers;
buzzing, droning as they pass.

Tinkling voice lilts softly on the wind,
the trickling stream of words
like the chittering of brightly-colored birds.

Her warm sunlight skin caresses mine
as I take her by the hand.
Freshly-cut-grass scent drifts around her.

She is still pure, untouched,
and I, Mother Nature, a green goddess
remain dwarfed by her abstract perfection.





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