by Ethel Mortenson Davis
I can’t remember
when I learned
to love animals,
but it was when
I was very young,
along with my three sisters.
Perhaps it started
when we were called
good-for-nothing girls,
forcing us toward
the animals.
It was where I learned
animals love their young
as much as we love
ours,
when the mother cow,
desperate that night,
cried in low,
hysterical bellows
for her dead calf.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
It is a country of stones—
Stoneland.
All you have to do,
when you walk,
is look down,
and there are
the most interesting stones.
All kinds, colors
and strenghs.
Looking down today
I saw petrified wood.
It is a land
more about itself
and less about humans,
it’s vastness
overwhelming.
The animals,
with adept feet,
steal away
where people never see,
a private land,
so much undiscovered.
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
by Ethel Mortenson Davis
When will we take
half the earth and stars
back?
Stand up and protect
the children,
the animals
and the earth?
When will we take back
Our God?
Our Mother?
Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry
