If I contend my mother’s image, air
She is who flicks the flashing coal to burn
Our bonfire brighter, stirs a fine flair flared
With motherly airs, and heaven’s firefolk flood
The earth their mothered mirth; and yet–She is
Our sea. Our Lady oceans Joy; our brim
She coasted. Depths she limbed and fleshed, our boast
And breath that baffles death. All this she is
And more: The ocean’s roar she can be, storms
Up weaponed waves to spear her foe. More feared
than furies, thousand times more furious,
Most loveliest lashed lightning lights the waste.
A mother’s love which world cannot contain
Would war, wreck, rage the liar’s tongue and mouths.