It poured out her mouth and fell on each season
To walk with beasts in relation to reason.
She expressed all she had and it drenched dry earth
Letting the brush remember it's worth.
Not that of flower but that of field
And more emphasis on quality and less so on yield.
It reached dry sands but stopped to implore
The salt knew, and her water was more.
None left to give to and not one who would take
There was lots to go around, all of it heart without ache.