madre montaña
it has been far too long since I’ve visited I have become a mamá I have become an abuela la vida but now it is time to come home come home to my madre montaña I round a bend in the road and there she is erect, beaming with an excited smile tree skirts ruffling soft, wooden flesh trembling she beckons to me, arms wide a beacon among the foothills and I come to her she is exactly as I remember her glamorous as a goddess forthright like a toddler a bewitching sea spooking the most weathered sailor a snuggly breeze rocking the baby to sleep each creek, stream, river a stitch in her patchwork quilt every meadow and valley a square with a forgotten tale every tie-off a hermit town too sleepy to wake up and greet me she is stuffed with mineral marrow and edged with snowflake seams I can feel her insides the weight of a glacier covers her bosom like all good mamás she has given her quinta essentia for her niños