misses my toes on her moss
misses my legs in her salt sea
misses my bottom on her stone
misses my belly in her breeze
misses my heart on her mountaintop
misses my face in her ferns and flowers.
She misses me, the Wild Mother,
misses my wild being.
She isn't broken or bleeding.
She isn't angry or threatening.
She simply wants my quiet company.
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