Our Mother Poem by Craig Fieldings

She lives, breaths and speaks. I dream a land filled with exotic flowers living together displaying a spectacular prism of colors; purples, reds, orange and yellows, all are welcome no matter what color there's plenty soil to go around.
Birds stretch their wings for their morning flight and as if it’s their job to wake the rest of nature’s creatures up with a song of their own.
Majestic white capped mountains stretch into cloud city congregating, each with a story to tell.
A Waterfall crashes upon rocks into a clear stream full of vibrant life, thrashing about playing tag.
Tree limb reaches across the stream trying to get to other side as if life is any better there. A stream of water speeds up in anticipation to be reunited with its mother, who waits patiently for her children to return with open arms.
I dream of other lands too, Sin City. The once exotic flowers look like there going though withdrawls, withered, discolored and sick, coughing up their leaves.
Black clouds envelopes the city full of soot, it becomes hard to tell the time of the day. Once boastful, energetic birds now need a wake up call, cause their suffering from hangovers.
The old timers in cloud city look down through the clouds in despair remembering better times.
No matter how much mother cleans, garbage seems to make it back in her yard. The once vibrant sea life is now playing hide-go-seek, families are separated.
The tree come to realize life is no better on either side and decides to take their life and falls in the stream.
She lives, breaths and speaks to us everyday, I dream the dream and felt her pain won’t anyone answer the cry of mother earth?