Earth is writing herself into poems, br For poetry is what she feels within her deepest being; br And all the emotions of her mind are seasons, br And being so large and slow moving, br Her emotions pass only very tediously; br So that it takes many months br To complete the shift from hot and voluptuous br To thin and chill. br br Earth hides her poetry in flowers and birds, br In clouds and rain showers. br Earth buries her words in soft soil br And tumultuous waves. br Her vocabulary so beautiful by now br She never has to erase a single line. br Wherever earth weeps, new growth springs up br In compassion, to cover over the old scars. br br Jan.