Chilly wet and molding,
gentle, fertile woodland
ripening toward vernal uprisings,
how ancient and inexorable
your uncountable processes,
and how tenuous our human steps,
moving from dimly remembered events
through momentary presence
to our terminal futures,
when our bodies return to you,
forever sweet earthen mother,
joining those fertile processes
gently ripening toward new life
within your regenerating forest.

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John Talbot Ross