Poetry by Charlie Gould

MOTHER'S DAY

I sat and listened to the wind last night,
As it caressed the forest, and salted the
Earth with new seed.

A small bird perched on a swaying limb
Huddled against the cooling air,
And regaled me with a song.

I rose, ever grateful for the moment,
And whistled back to the bird.
It looked my way, offering a final, sweet note.

Talking with people helps. But,
Sometimes one needs to talk to the earth.
The Mother of all things will *always* answer.

--Charlie Gould*

*"Works and plays well with others, and does not eat his young."