This week we have a poem recently written by resident poet-farmer Becca Muller. She and her husband, Rye, welcomed their fourth child, Juno Lune, last December. Happy Spring! And happy Mother’s Day!
I find myself
at each day’s end
running the edge of our land
her hills and dales,
flats and curves
some days I run furrows
and shady orchard rows
scents of citrus bloom and lilac
perfuming every step
strawberries kiss my feet
snapdragons bow to my breeze
I can reach for a peach
a creamy apricot
it’s so simple
an oft forgotten thrill
our land she is
so generous
when we give her all we’ve got
our family feels
the gravity
to be the tribe who tends her
the oaks, our elders
bend their elbows
pointing toward the river
so we sow our seeds
praise the bees
and go down in the water
to pray
we keep our children close and wild
teaching them to teach themselves
how far they’ll fly
knowing well where they came from
on the subject of stars
we are one with ours
her majesty
the sun
with her, we rise and set again
on her, we depend
with reverence
now and then we journey
to faraway lands
sit in with old friends and their kin
we share stories, break bread
trade songs and laugh along
deep into the night
and when we can
we return our bodies to the ocean
weightless within
mother’s brine again
her heartbeat, the tides
our continuum rescued by
this precious time
back inside the womb
it is primal
we must remove ourselves
to remind our souls
just where they belong
this is called revival
we never stay away for long
pulled to our roots
like hens to roost
by an ancient earthen song
steady in our daily toil
we make music
our soil sings and
we eat like kings
floating gently, merrily
down the stream
as we will
till kingdom come
