Outdoor writing contest fourth place: My Mother, My Earth

“O’ Earth,”

I beckon.

My right hand twitches.

“Summon forth droplets of light as soft and as quiet as butterfly’s wings from the heavens and sprinkle them over my land. Change the shades of melancholy to harmonious hues as beautiful and as lovely as your eternal youth. Breathe the essence of life back into the creatures of your night.”

“I shall.”

The north wind whispered.

And so the Earth delivered.

“O’ Earth,”

I call out again.

My finger lifted to the clouded sky.

“Bring the sun itself to my feet so that I may bask in its golden glory, and so that my cattle may teach their young the ways of your unforgiving, yet kindred nature. Warm my riverbeds and fill them with flashing rainbow scales that shine brilliantly in the depths.”

“I shall.”

The south wind exclaimed.

And so the Earth delivered.

“O’ Earth,”

I motion.

My palm facing upward.

“Wither the colors of seasons past and shower my land in an amber glow, magenta tinges slowly bleeding into the leaves above. Blow in a crisp breeze so that I may eat the corn and jolly squashes as they ripen in my field.”

“I shall.”

The East wind uttered.

And so the Earth delivered.

“O’ Earth,”

I gesture.

Both of my hands outreached.

“Face away from your fiery sibling and lengthen your nights. Calm your skies and instead fill them with a silent white rain to blanket my dozing crops. Send my land into a frigid slumber so that you may finally rest, my mother, my Earth.”

“I shall …”

The West wind mumbled.

And so the Earth delivered.