(Let me know what you think. This is the roughest of rough drafts as I was trying to think of things to blog about I just started typing and reflecting or vice versa. Sort of a conscientious stream of poem tonight.)
Eve is dawning.
While day noise hangs on to the last bits of sun;
Night sounds abound.
As slender fingers of light clutch the horizon;
Birds whistle their content tunes.
Bugs begin their dusky buzzing.
So much more aware of the sounds and smells of my Mother than I have ever been.
How can the masses ignore her beauty?
Can they not see how their actions cause her pain?
Mother, an ivory-skinned, ebony-haired, ruby-lipped woman;
Shows off her curves, her colors, her rich sultry voice, her bosom, her perfect scent.
Her feminine glory shows the world how intense and righteous she is.
How can the masses ignore her tears?
Will my Mother's beauty sustain when my son is raising his sons and daughters?
My awareness is the sweetest sweet and the bitterest sweet.
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