The hand that emulates God and extends their arms as home.
She flourishes life and nurtures it.
She provides shelter and shields them from the evil of the world.
The everlasting strength that not even death can quench.

Arms like vines that stretch to the inner depths of its home.
The vines that give stability, support and safety.
Like a vineyard that provides grapes, the sweet and imperishable goodness that brings happiness and joy.
Like wine, growing better and finer as it ages.
Whispers wise words that weaves through the wind underneath the white moon.

She opens her cradle and welcomes the lost and the found.
Embraces the lively company like an old man that doesn’t get visitors.
The clouds part, the sun seeps, the lost leave with a heart full of content and comfort.

The branches that connects nature and sky.
The bridge that connects the old and the new.
Rejoices the young summer glow like its own achievement.
Livening up in the presence of birds, clear skies and the life-giving perfume of cold, hushed air.

She protects and loves unconditionally.
Yet, taken for granted.
She gets destroyed, agonised, stripped.
Abandoned and forgotten, she waits for a better day, a warm summer evening where she will reminisce when everyone cherished and loved her.
Yet, she forgives us and may die, but she will always sprout for many years to come.