Earthward

It’s real

how lily pads crave

attachment, annex

to a single root

of its bath bottom

it embodies the link

like an umbilical cord,

the earth is a mother.

The flower that blooms

feeding from the soil bed,

don’t you see it?

The petals of its infantry,

the silk of its poetry

it’s magnificent—

No, it’s maternal

autocratic,

it’s real.