Member Poem

BLUE WATER, GREEN TREE

She carries him like a mother carries her child,
But he's her husband.
Trusts him like the sands that slip through her fingers
at the beach,
Loves him like an Oak loves water.
Born on the Mississippi, she's known water,
Water as deep and dark as Mississippi Mud,
Or as clear as Bahama breezes.
Water as cold as a hail storm,
And hard as a steel door.
Water that closed around like death,
As she waits
To exhale.

He is her water;
she is his tree.
He runs, plays, visiting the beaches.

She stands
toweringly waiting.

He rages,
Rips houses apart,
But just rolls around her roots,
Snagging only clumps of clay.

He gurgles bubbled melodies to her
whistle in the wind.

He complements her, supplies her, feeds her.

Happily incompatible,
they feed each other,
Separate, But joined by life.

Moody like the moon,
His tide waxes and wanes,
Waxes and wanes,

She stands-
Rings centuries around her stature,
Holds the wealth of a million generations
of motherlover sense
In her outstretched arms.
Her leaves fall in to his ripples,
A million tears of change.