Landed

Morning notes.

Early, in darkness, listening for a chord to shine the sunup. They say there is water below here, an underground stream, roiling currents of it, unseen. Nothing about land makes it separate from that knowing, from the air. I wait between breaths and it enters again. This land, before I leave.

Author: Stacey C. Johnson

I keep watch and listen, mostly in dark places.

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