Down By The River

Dormant sounds reawaken stoic eyes
left passing over silken strands
of hair, flowing,
flowing over ancient cheeks,
humble peaks that are
all but everlasting.
Velvet dress, a sweet caress
as Mother lies in wonder,
wonder for what might adore
Her early morning call,
a call to those who might have chose
to gaze upon Her beauty,
a hope that glistens simply listens
for interpreters to follow,
and in their minds stews thought divine
for masses yet to grasp,
and sand will mask the menial task
of nature's solemn cries -

for eyes to weep and hearts to seek
a love for Her profound physique.