The wind blows a laden sigh
yet comfortably, unmovingly, here sit I
where some would become tense
I am lax, billowing like ribbons on a fence
Misty rain sprinkles her blessings
strangers race about, with their duckings and hidings
but I am the ground, happily being soaked
earth's pitcher - mouth open, uncloaked
An overly exuberant sun radiates above
it is what some brown folk, wish to stay out of
I too am brown, and like a cake - I taste better when baked
human, of the earth and on the earth our identity let us not forsake
Nika McGuin
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/earthling/
