somewhere
there must be rain,
though the sky here is blue,
the torrent that is a river
says so
nature
has claimed this place
where once a homestead stood
only the ghostly memories
remain
a time
to wade further,
to search newly found depths,
to explore what was once hidden—
low tide
the night's
fine adventures,
wild journeys and ramblings,
moored in dreams until the morning
wakens
