Nature Nurtures

Between Montana and Washington
And so much more.

We left our temporary home
Late in the morning.
We called it our own
But we knew it never was
Ours.

I asked my husband to leave
A buck on the desk
For the woman who would
Erase all evidence of our being there.
She turned out to be an
Indian Maid -- hmmmm, sorry.
I could tell by her accent.
She refused to be claimed
Unlike me.

She reminds me of my daughter --
Completely adopted by people
Not of her race -- not really,
But she still has that nasal quality
To her voice, reminiscent of
That accent, and I remember that
I too have the nasal quality, maybe
I'm not completely
Claimed.

As we travel this seemingly permenent
Strip of concrete and asphault
I notice that I don't see as many
Adopt a Highway signs as usual
Near the points of the most
Civilization.

I see an abandoned
Strip of land once adopted
Now being reclaimed by Mother.
She's put grass and weeds and
Small bushes inbetween
The cracks of old
Asphault.

I see a patch of land adopted
By a family that raises wheat.
Mother lingers nearby;
She watches and waits
For her chance to reclaim this
Child.

It reminds me of the communities
Of land adopted by wheat growing
Families, south of my less temporary
Home.

Land far removed from Mother,
But I know she waits
To reclaim these children, too,
Someday.

I see patches of land on
Mother's mountains --
Raped: clear cut and discarded,
Which Mother is nurturing
Back to health -- she does not forget
Her own.

I see a strip of land surrounded by trees.
She's grass covered and Mother
Has nearly completed reclaiming her
I can barely tell that she was once
Adopted.

We reach our destination, Spokane,
Our home, a city lost
To Mother for generations to come
But, I'm certain that mother will wait
Patiently, to reclaim even this child
Unless --

Unless man,
Unless man becomes
So possessive of all,
These adopted children that he
Would rather destroy it all
With a mushroom or his own
A cloud, a puff of smoke cloud
Saying:

If I can't have it,
Nobody can.

And, who knows?
In the end, the very end,
Mother may be the final victor
Anyway.