Natures’ Hands. ‘Earth’ is her hand’s shade, ‘Deep Orange’ goodness of soil is her bounteous palm Which in provident prosperity faces up t’wards the skies. Deep hands that labour the land, Deep hands that till, that rock, That stroke and layer fine soil grains. Warm hands with life -fertile- Warm hands that close up Germinating seeds in the dark A womb- Pitch black. Hands that rattle the clouds – rain poured out. Hands that gently press the leaves- dews oozed out. Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. Nature’s hands sculpted, shaped mountains, Soaring heaps of splendour larger than life. She shaped valleys, water ways, The crevasses in the earth, the creeks And beds smoothed by the flowing of the rivers. Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. Wet hands with divine spit, moist virginal clay slip. She stroked the earth on her pottery wheel, swirling, Spinning and swooning in shaping me. Adorning, gifting, stroking me with her highness … A mother’s blessing. A natural touch from her hands. Yes a blessing from her… Nature’s Hands, Nature’s Hands. “Just like the natural elements, I am her child, Divine nature shaped me.” Written as an ode to my primeval mother…mother nature. All my love and respect to this grand lady. LOve From SunBird.