An old post for Solstice

If Earth grew old the way people do,
she would look like an early winter morning.

Brilliant yellows and reds, dusted silver grey;
purple and brown grasses bowed and aged with hoarfrost;
dark evergreen with a tinge of white,
and balding hills salted at the temples.

Even the quiet calm that comes with the wisdom of age
is amplified on cold, foggy mornings.
Reverence steals a frosty breath
as willowy grey haired ghosts loom large in the haze.

But Earth is an outrageous Crone,
wise and salty.
She rejoices in her years
and glorifies age with laughter and birdsong.

In spring, she will highlight her hair with shades of green
disguise her laugh lines in garlands of flowers
and apply blush in wisps of cloud.

In summer, Earth will stay up later than grownups;
rising early with the sun
and twirling to heavensong under the adoring gaze of the moon.

And in fall, she will costume herself in glorious color
and entertain Indian Summer on cool evenings;
and shiver, ever so gently,
until trees spread confetti on her paths

Such is the wisdom of Earth,
to be ancient, in timeless and ageless ways.

Lisa Butler 2002