Upon the warm summer earth
soft to touch and a path of green,
with seeds heads held to the sky
tall slender stems reaching
holding fertility to the wind,
we walk, together, as one.
We are present, but in time
will become the ancesters
that live in your songs and dances
and lift your spirits high.
Through the rustling grasses
a path well trod before us,
feet connecting with cool leaves
and the soil that lives
for our fragile earth,
seeds scatter to await the new.
Around us, excited butterflies
gathering from flower to flower
and the hum of bees and flies
their freedom is the scented air.
Our toes touch the bedstraw
thyme, cranesbill, plantain and clover
delicate beauty, we take for granted.
We are the landscape and yet
we will change it for ever.
But though our feet will tread
through love, harvest, and war
the seeds will always survive
for they are our future.
How little we understand.
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