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At the End of the World.
Mother Nature lives in a cottage at the end of the world.
She frolicks in the creek that’s a 5 minute stroll away.
She holds the manual for which native flora are edible, and which are toxic, in her mind.
She traps small animals in contraptions that ensure their instant death.
She continually rotates the list of animals that can be hunted.
She allows time for each species to repopulate and contribute to the ecosystem.
She uses every part of the animals she traps.
Mother Nature is a hermit.
She renounced the modern world.
She chokes on the industrial fog clouding major cities.
She talks to the insects and reptiles that populate her home as if they actually respond to her.
She owns a typewriter, on which she records her personal philosophies and intrinsic knowledge.
Mother Nature is covered in tattoos.
Her ink tells her story, from the very beginning, to the very end.
Her ink also identifies the things that make her happy. Some of her ink doesn’t make sense to third-parties, but Mother Nature is fine with that.
She traces the outline of her tattoos on nights she cannot sleep.
Her ink covers her multitude of scars and imperfections, but that is purely coincidental.
Mother Nature listens to the Traditional Owners of all her lands.
She may have created them, but Mother Nature is always eager to hear how her treasured peoples have learned to live off her land.
She respects the stories, languages, knowledge, and lore that her children have created.
She never fails to learn something new from their talks.
Mother Nature is… fragile.
Don’t get her wrong, Mother Nature is a force to behold.
She is the giver and taker of life.
Her knowledge is the key to the future.
But, regardless, Mother Nature is fragile.
Mother Nature needs reassurance.
She seeks comfort in the arms of her partner.
As her hands smooth over warm skin, wiry hair, and a plethora of moles and scars she loves, Mother Nature finds peace.
Mother Nature is not straight, nor cisgender.
She is everything and nothing.
She is our future and our past.
She loves a woman.
She shares her life, and cottage, with HER woman.
Mother Nature startles as her lover gently shakes her shoulder, pulling her from her trance-like state from inside their hammock. Eyes darting over soft, darkened skin and carefree gaze, Mother Nature’s heart softens. Her girlfriend’s voice is smooth like honey. She wants to sink into its sweet, warm depths and disappear.
“You alright, hun?”
Smiling gaily, Mother Nature reaches out to kiss her lover’s hand.
“I am now.”
As her girlfriend smiles with the force of a thousand suns, Mother Nature melts.
She is once again reminded of heaven.
She thinks she finally sees a happy ending to her timeless existence.
She stops to appreciate the sound of the birds in the trees.
She thanks the Almighty Creator, if they exist, for blessing her life with her lover.
In her cottage, at the end of the world, Mother Nature learns to live again.
© O.M.A
#story #shortstory #fiction #lgbtq #writco #writcoapp #WritcoQuote #Love&love #reflection #nature
She frolicks in the creek that’s a 5 minute stroll away.
She holds the manual for which native flora are edible, and which are toxic, in her mind.
She traps small animals in contraptions that ensure their instant death.
She continually rotates the list of animals that can be hunted.
She allows time for each species to repopulate and contribute to the ecosystem.
She uses every part of the animals she traps.
Mother Nature is a hermit.
She renounced the modern world.
She chokes on the industrial fog clouding major cities.
She talks to the insects and reptiles that populate her home as if they actually respond to her.
She owns a typewriter, on which she records her personal philosophies and intrinsic knowledge.
Mother Nature is covered in tattoos.
Her ink tells her story, from the very beginning, to the very end.
Her ink also identifies the things that make her happy. Some of her ink doesn’t make sense to third-parties, but Mother Nature is fine with that.
She traces the outline of her tattoos on nights she cannot sleep.
Her ink covers her multitude of scars and imperfections, but that is purely coincidental.
Mother Nature listens to the Traditional Owners of all her lands.
She may have created them, but Mother Nature is always eager to hear how her treasured peoples have learned to live off her land.
She respects the stories, languages, knowledge, and lore that her children have created.
She never fails to learn something new from their talks.
Mother Nature is… fragile.
Don’t get her wrong, Mother Nature is a force to behold.
She is the giver and taker of life.
Her knowledge is the key to the future.
But, regardless, Mother Nature is fragile.
Mother Nature needs reassurance.
She seeks comfort in the arms of her partner.
As her hands smooth over warm skin, wiry hair, and a plethora of moles and scars she loves, Mother Nature finds peace.
Mother Nature is not straight, nor cisgender.
She is everything and nothing.
She is our future and our past.
She loves a woman.
She shares her life, and cottage, with HER woman.
Mother Nature startles as her lover gently shakes her shoulder, pulling her from her trance-like state from inside their hammock. Eyes darting over soft, darkened skin and carefree gaze, Mother Nature’s heart softens. Her girlfriend’s voice is smooth like honey. She wants to sink into its sweet, warm depths and disappear.
“You alright, hun?”
Smiling gaily, Mother Nature reaches out to kiss her lover’s hand.
“I am now.”
As her girlfriend smiles with the force of a thousand suns, Mother Nature melts.
She is once again reminded of heaven.
She thinks she finally sees a happy ending to her timeless existence.
She stops to appreciate the sound of the birds in the trees.
She thanks the Almighty Creator, if they exist, for blessing her life with her lover.
In her cottage, at the end of the world, Mother Nature learns to live again.
© O.M.A
#story #shortstory #fiction #lgbtq #writco #writcoapp #WritcoQuote #Love&love #reflection #nature
