Mother Earth, Well-Worn, Sun-Washed

Anna Margolin

Mother earth, well-worn, sun-washed,

dusky slave and mistress

am I, beloved.

From me, humble and dejected

you arise—a mighty trunk.

Like the eternal stars, like the sun's flame,

I circle in long blind silence round

your roots, your boughs.

Half awake and half drowsing,

I search through you for heaven on high.

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