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Roost

June 13, 2016

Trumpeter swans. They’ve been absent for so long. They used to live downstream from us, but until now they’ve been gone.

As the sun fought its way between the trees, I see them on the water, white wings folded, necks held high. I saw six pairs floating down the silky Snake. I realized in that moment I have been gone too. But now I’ve come back home to roost. To tend the fire in my soul in the place that has always been my home.

I ask a single female at the end of their cloudy line “Did yours get broken too? Is that why you’ve been gone? We missed you gentle friends.” She did not reply, instead she floated by. Taciturn, silent. But I did see a glimmer in her eye.

We wound them everyday, it seemed to me to say.20160529_133757.jpg

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