Earth’s Imapact

 

 

The returning soldier falling on his knees,

bends his grateful head to kiss and smell

the earth of his birth, her fragrance headier

than the headiest wine of freshly plucked grapes.

 

What’s it with you mother that reminds me

of Paradise, a place that has snowy capped

mountains, crystal clear water streaming down

their slopes, spreading across the vale, a source

 

of life for countless millions sustained by your

bounty, blessing and beneficence and nothing else?

Despite the plunder and destruction for selfish ends,

Despite the disrespect and damnation heaped on you,

 

You my mother, show a love that far surpasses

that of the fickle-minded, the frail, the inconsequential.

 

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Earth’s Imapact

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