She surrenders to the rain,
She neither fights or flees,
She tends and befriends
Whatever comes her way.
Made of Earth and Fire,
She dances with Air and Water,
She sings the song of the First Rain.
She is my teacher
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Light Words 
Neither fighting nor fleeing, oh yes, such a wonderful ideal- so far away for me. The serenity in the sculpture captures the feeling of your poem.
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Yes that old primitive brain conditioning is hard to overcome…”She” hangs on my deck keeping watch on my behavior.
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