…and now it does seem,
great Mother,
that you are upon
a slow Autumn
the final season
of your full life
the flock you nested
has long since flown, confident and vivacious
into the bright Summers
which your careful Spring-raising made True
of six 9-mooned Winters
resiliently carried through
there are now birds of those birds
nests inspired on those you prepared
the multiplication of your first work, speaking its success
reverberations of your Love, unabated
still spawning seasons, Summers
thriving on the essence of your light…
…and so, indeed, as much as it may seem,
great Mother,
that your body has turned on you
and now terminally sheds and folds itself away,
the spirit and truth you have given us to fearlessly fly on
can neither fall nor whither, but prove you, immortal.