She was a weaver. She spun stories with the yarns of her imagination and draped the whole world with her beautiful tales. Her lores spoke of the battlefields in the sky where lightning bolts became swords and thunder claps fierce battle cries. She wrote of the moon whose moonlight palms' caressed the earth. She whispered her tales to the gentle summer breeze, who lingered lovingly to hear them all... The wind glided around the world, giving out fragments of her boundless mind to the rivers and the birds. Lend your ears to the gurgle of rivers and birdsong sweet, Then you too shall hear the stories of Nature, supreme.
