This earth is a pot, full of light in its holes
If not holding water for crows with pebbles.
A mere wheel turns to give birth to it softly.
In summer its earth smells nicely of water.
Its shadows at bottom betray our emotions
Of deep passion, thirst for hills, dark fears
In deep down of belly, butterflies for future.
It is like our mom, silk-soft in belly for us.
