My Mothers House by Lela Northcross Wakely

  • Lela Northcross Wakely

    My Mothers House

    When I start to see long shadows

    When I feel wind from the south

    It’s then I hear my Mother singing

    As she prepares her evening house.

    Smell the scents of daylong baking

    Warm ripened fruits, moist dirt, sweet grass

    Insects keep a natural rhythm

    As she prepares her evening house

    Waters cold, receive my body

    Gently currents, seek my soul

    My Mother sings a song of healing

    As she prepares her evening house

    Softly falls the shining starlight

    While westward sun withdraws his light

    Moving on the moon path with her

    I enter in her evening house.

    And when my life is seen long shadowed

    May I feel once more wind from the south

    Then join with her in ageless singing

    And rest me in her evening house.

    My Mothers House

    When I start to see long shadows

    When I feel wind from the south

    It’s then I hear my Mother singing

    As she prepares her evening house.

    Smell the scents of daylong baking

    Warm ripened fruits, moist dirt, sweet grass

    Insects keep a natural rhythm

    As she prepares her evening house

    Waters cold, receive my body

    Gently currents, seek my soul

    My Mother sings a song of healing

    As she prepares her evening house

    Softly falls the shining starlight

    While westward sun withdraws his light

    Moving on the moon path with her

    I enter in her evening house.

    And when my life is seen long shadowed

    May I feel once more wind from the south

    Then join with her in ageless singing

    And rest me in her evening house.

    Lela Northcross Wakely Copyright 2012



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