An old universe
rises on a blade of grass--
a droplet of dew.
How does the river
hold the trees, the sky, and me?
I will never know.
Three river otters
casting concentric ripples
play and dive and splash.
Wire fences, cobwebs--
boundaries between here and there
collect morning dew.
New lambs being born--
things I am not meant to see
along the river's bank.
I heard the soil say,
"when will you rain, for I am
so thirsty and dry."
Love this...like a walk along the river.
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