Fertile Fields
Ode to Mother Nature and Mother of Life,
of maternal cycles working since the spirit
moved across the waters
with love and fertility at the helm,
satisfaction of the urge,
the rites of eternity’s carnal desires,
of Earth’s botanical desires,
and so of life longing for itself,
fields thawing out from a cold Winter’s grip,
fields of corn screaming for the seeds,
love receptacles heated up for
the workings of the seed of life,
of passion without the knowledge of it,
of passion under the commands of
a botanical omnipresence.
Thank God, the author of life
for the invention of the seeds,
the maturation process of them,
the strength in their physicality,
their natural determination to fight
off the elements,
their pilgrimage up through the soil
and their dependence on the sun and rain,
nature’s eternal spa.
Fertile fields, we owe our life to you.
Please stay as you are forever.
Please keep nurturing thy seeds.
Please protect them from any harm.
Please remain instinctive and stalwart.
Please don’t inherit any intelligence
like we humans have.
Our lives depend on you.
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