I knew you when the infant  Earth

was new and lovely—

morning stars in chorus sang

and all the Sons of God were joyful then.

God spanked her tiny bottom and

set her spinning in her revolutions;

we knew how right it was and

clamored among those

who applauded their consent.

She may be like a tree

that sprouts and buds

and blooms and dies

each seven thousand

years or so—

and leaves her ice-age markers

and old chalky bones

where life has been;

but, what is that to us,

who, somewhere deep inside,

hear morning stars still sing

when fingers touch,

who silently shout for joy,

"I knew you when. . ."


By: Betty Edmondson


WHAT A WONDER!: By Wanda Mason