Mother, your tender branch is my temple.
The roots of you bind with mine.
Your wind is my prayer.
Your fire, my shelter.
The half moon sends your messages—
clouds carrying source light,
visions of angels.
My feet are forever indebted
to your soft ground.
How my great burdens vanish
beneath your carpet of daffodils.
Tell me
how I may serve you,
o great Mother.
Vaishali Paliwal
Moonwater 