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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