|Looking Glass Mountain in the rain|
‘Way down in the valley below,
the rush of Little Pine Creek
is full of mystery, portent.
She is warning us, analyzing what we do,
a wise woman full of the lessons of history,
if we will only listen.
Nearby in the tree tops,
the rain is a sheet of sound, pointillistic,
as each leaf receives a drop.
In the woods in the rain, I am rewarded,
hearing Mother’s great bountiful “enough for all.”
Here on the screened-in porch in the rain,
the taps on the tin roof go deep,
settling into my soul.
The soft gentle beats are the Goddess’ finger patterns
moving down my spine, reminding me
of the heart-stirring journey that began all this.
The black crow glides across the white sky,
crying, “raining, it’s raining.”
|Betsy's Little Pine cabin|