Could hands of bulk
have fashioned the tiny streams
that flirt and tease the slopes,
and giggling ,,run away?
and what of raindrops,
Tears from crying eyes
and what of ocean's mist
and soft morning dew?
the whisper of the wind
and golden sunsets,
and fluffy white clouds
go ask the flowers,, and the tiny Hummingbird,
They all give reason to believe
that surely, God must have been a women.