This patch of red earth
under my feet
even in drought
feels like home.
At dawn
I sit at the river’s edge
gazing east.
The rising sun star
almost always
turns pale light
into a world of color
that defies imagination
or words to describe
my wonder.
Even the lamenting horse
next door
breaking my heart
with his sorrow
is part of the story…
His anguish has become
my own.
I greet each day
with gratitude
and earnest prayer.
Someday
will I find home
in this high desert?
I long for roots –
dug deep as my longing –
and a place of my own.
