Who now draws from me,
But forest, field and brook?
I am returning-
Soil to the potters hand.
Mother Earth,
Spinning,
Spinning,
Wheel.
Mold me into beauty-
Into grass or sky.
Spread me,
Through the lands.
Let me dance upon the wind.
Let me feed the children of the ground.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 3:02 AM UTC
Who now draws from me,
But forest, field and brook?
I am returning-
Soil to the potters hand.
Mother Earth,
Spinning,
Spinning,
Wheel.
Mold me into beauty-
Into grass or sky.
Spread me,
Through the lands.
Let me dance upon the wind.
Let me feed the children of the ground.
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