I watch as she awakens,
from deep blue shades of sleep,
dew like finely woven lace,
upon her gentle breast.
Singing birds her morning sigh,
as petals now unfold,
to drink her honey-golden warmth,
my lady, mother earth.
I lay upon her softly now,
my nakedness she enfolds,
in satin sheets of morningtime,
My soul and hers now one.
David Chiasson