The Fosterers

The river, I have not seen her fountain head to estuary - anything though after my birth my mother sanctified me with sprinkling her holy water.

That vast tree, I have not seen His childhood, adolescence, or youth though in my boyhood I played under his shade Picked up joy and pleasure Day after day.

That river.. .that tree... The thousands of fosterers Like that river and tree overwhelmed me with sorrow...

Nothing I have seen... The first morning. ..the birth of the Earth...