In the morning stillness, clouds in the valley,
each mountain a Lady’s breast,
I feel Her body, Gaia’s self,
These mountains here in New York State
reach out to my Grandmother, far to the south.
And Denali! Chumalungma! Kilimanjaro!
Her grand body speaks, one to another,
mountain to mountain, radio towers,
sister to sister, across the aeons,
reaching, reaching, holding.
I look around and think,
“and this one, too!,”
this old home mountain on which I stand.
She who has fostered me well through the years,
She who has given me courage and strength.
This one, too, speaks across the world,
breast to divine breast,
holding us, Her wayward brood,
September 5, 2015