She dances with deer.
She sleeps among birches.
She sings to the stars
and weaves the web
of night into day.
Her voice is eternal
on the breath of the wind…
She is my Mother…
Gaia!
Woman Wood
In a woman scented wood
the mystery begins.
Her voice sighs softly just
a whisper on the wind.
Your name she calls
inviting you
to listen in repose.
To dream, perhaps,
to go within,
to learn all that she knows.
Contributed by Joan Rilse