Mothers are

A field of lush

Green grass

Sprinkled with flowers

An artichoke dipped in butter

The evening sky

A glowing peach

As the sun gets shy and hides

A cliff wall

Waiting anxiously

For the giant dandelion to rise from the mountains

To make her glisten

The honeybee

In her yellow garments

Making the world a better place

Lightning

Snaking down

To earth

To fry the crust

Just like the

Scrumptious cakes

Those mothers always create

For their young

Who will eventually

Be mothers

Mothers are themselves