In an Earlier Time

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In an earlier time, America was covered with forests, except for the Great Plains

and swamplands of Florida. People grew their own food, with nuts

and berries, and some corn, and as they loved each other, loved

their communities, taking care of each other, they were able

to spread their wings, taking in the Creator breathing,

and they were encouraged by the sun. It was

a beautiful time really,

simply beautiful.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

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Harvesting

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They say the fields are ready for harvesting now,

but some of our leaders became confused

having sown the wrong seeds, the ones

producing weeds, the choking weeds,

instead of life giving fruit

we so desperately need.

      

If we reach in far enough though,

we can find the seeds

that do grow life, the kind

that search for soil,

but that’s another poem,

altogether.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

Working in the Green

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When I am working in the green, I always think of farming

and being closer to the earth. A oneness, maybe it’s in the sweat,

or perhaps walking on the earth itself, being surrounded

with the green life, but at the very least

I am refreshed. And there is a sense

of peace, even in the mowing.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Wounded Earth

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Farming is not a wounding of the earth, unless we kill her

and ourselves, with chemicals. The great wounding

she weeps over, that breaks her into

many pieces, is the cruelty we inflict

on each other.

       

And she longs for us to be healed.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

Remembering the Earth

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And the fields may not call to us, like they do the farmer

but there are still fragments of soil in our veins

pieces of clay in our bones, an echo

of the divine in the sky.

       

And when we taste the fresh fruit again

we remember at least a part

of our history and

how we loved

the earth.

        

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

Strawberries

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When the berries are ripe I think of us

we were so young then, in the fields

and so much in love, the sun

on our backs, but we didn’t care

if it rained.

It was the harvest filling

our souls.

              

The plants beckoned to us, holding onto their treasure

your sunhat never hiding your smile,

and later the children

reaching in with tiny hands

filled with joy

as they filled their buckets.

            

I remember hearing, “Mommy, Daddy, look……I got a big one!”

Life was so beautiful then.

        

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

A Memory

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In the land of the forgotten there remains a memory

high in the mountains, the sky speaks

of when the earth embraced us

and we responded in kind,

of when we loved

being here.

Raising food, and seeds

loving each other,

a brother/sisterhood.

May we remember

the far past

and live

in the earth

as one.

A memory.

       

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”