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Post by Lux on Mar 17, 2008 19:53:48 GMT 12
Grandmother's Blanket By Ann Murray Smith
Grandmother's Blanket holds the sweet smell of sage Woven by enchantment, as the Spirits feel no rage. Trimmed in eyelet shadows, cast into the snow Tumbleweeds and deserts She traveled long ago. The threads are Her wisdom She passes on to you, Reflections wrap around us, as if we always knew. The patchwork shows directions North, East, South, West The needle points the way so we know when to rest. Grandmother's Blanket holds the soft warmth of down From fine-feathered friends and foliage all around. Covered by a breeze and a soft summer rain Lightning dances wildly, as the Thunder heals Her pain. The colors are Her passions beneath the cotton lining For She knows the Spirit world, is free and never binding. Footsteps walk below the soil, Mother Earth is listening Frost paints the Blanket edges, above the stars are glistening. Grandmother's Blanket has many stories to tell The colors have faded, for the years have turned it pale. Comforted by the Oneness, Her head bows down in grace, Thanking Great Spirit for Her Honor in this place.
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