She calls to me,
She catches the apple from the tree.
Gaia, I hear you in,
In the waterfall, in the morning call,
You call to me through every bud,
Enfolding each with a mother’s touch.
Forgive us now we do not know,
How to parent all of the things you grow,
Still you call to me,
Into the mine,
Are we carbon formed or are we crystalline?
