I Know Her

I see her in clouds that pour down abundance.
I see her in rich soil, teeming with a network of life.
I see her in a spider’s web, bear’s claw, and bird’s nest.

I taste her in cool water from a fresh stream.
I taste her in the salt left on my lips after a day at the ocean.
I taste her and the fruits of her labor in every bite I consume.

I hear her when whales sing as they migrate.
I hear her in the crunching of autumn leaves beneath my feet.
I hear her in a silent thicket covered in a blanket of snow.

I smell her in the air after a brief summer’s rain.
I smell her in the blood that drips between my thighs.
I smell her in my milk left on my baby’s breath.

I feel her in a warm breeze brushing over my skin.
I feel her when my feet squish in the mud.
I feel her life-giving heart beating within mine.

I know her in the mountains when I worship in the woods.
I know her when my children tug on the hem of my skirt.
I know her in my image, because I am my mother’s daughter.