I cradle the travelers in their windy Birth, <br />My name is Mother....Mother Earth. <br /> <br />I Give them a bed in nature to lie, <br />When they hear that sweet lullaby. <br /> <br />I wash them in my rivers and streams. <br />Thier furtive flight is a product of dreams. <br /> <br />When the dream ends and they always come clean. <br /> <br />They thank me with colors and odors of fall, <br />And remind me to give Old Man Winter a call. <br /> <br />What am I? <br />The leaves inspired by, <br />The one who says, <br />'Semper Fi '<br /><br />John Shea<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poem-45/
