Mother of the World

She stands at the top of a celestial zenith,
A terrestrial dais from which to survey.
On top of her head seats a magnificent wreath,
A chaplet concealing her hair now turned gray.
Who is this lady who stands at the apex?
Gazing, perceiving, observing our sphere?
Who stares out to sea, past far snow-capped mountains,
Oer rivers and lakes, this world’s brigadier?
At her command race rivulets in runnels,
By rivers and lakes, their caves and their tunnels.
Her bluebirds, her robins she loves their embellish,
A turn of her hand cause lives here to flourish.
Now time for her sunset, its journey below,
Her moon and her stars are waiting to go.
This lady, this mother, is one we all know.
Mother Nature in her somewhere really puts on a show.

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About the Author

Ray spent 21 years in radio broadcasting followed by 27 years as a real estate appraiser. He taught real estate appraisal at the University of Missouri, Ozarks Technical Community College and St. Charles Community College. Ray loves writing and always has. After Ray retired he attained the Certificate in Higher Education in Creative Writing from Oxford University. Writing short stories for the Certificate was exciting especially since he was in his seventies. Since then the genre has become his obsession and he loves to write them often. His email is [email protected]

Ray Shermer
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