Dreams of Leaving

For 14 years I have slept
beside the braided river.

Once when Earth drew moon close
in a perigean embrace

geese and cranes in cacophony,
honk and coo, flew overhead

all night long casting
pterodactyl dream shadows.

After 7 years of drought, the river
remains in a constant wait,

yet without rain
the cranes return this year, the next.

I once claimed to be a poet of place
now wonder if I leave here,

will I leave myself? For now,
I sleep beside the braided river
praying for rain.

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