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	poems

A Mother's Nature

I am closer to
nature than those
many hikes in mountain
and desert ever brought me. My child
curls at my bosom
with small foraging
movement, hands cupping
and finding what
belongs to her.
Her lips latching me,
a wellspring.
The let down begins.
I close my eyes
becoming a stream,
an apprentice of Mother Nature.
Balanced on a ritual
as old as origin,
we are interdependent,
little star and full moon.

By Stacey Goldblat