The earth knows me.
She gives me pecans and mangoes and onions
The birth of my own children
is what I give back.
.
My children walk here.
barefoot, brown-skinned, and thirsty.
A river runs through here;
cool water springs forth.
.
Momma?
.
Somewhere a baby is crying…
I love the optimism that is offered by the cool water. Great poem.