Mother Tree

Moss of miniature forests
the mother tree
now a sentinel on the ground
gives home to tiny creatures
who burrow in her breast
a comfort to all who come
just as she was when
she stood tall.

Motherhood, to bring forth life
then nurture it is an honor
yet an impossible task
a delicate balance between
supporting and letting go
requiring wisdom and patience
few of us have
so we muddle though it
doing the best we can
secretly wishing this job
came with an instruction manual.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Share your thoughts if you wish.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s