South is the dam
North is the city
East and west are the moaning train tracks
But here, in the sunset over
Hills and water
The gulls, the mergansers, the raptors,
Sing to me and deafen the wailing
Of machines in the distance.
I climb the tree, shimmying to the second branch
It feels more like home in that moment
Than anywhere else.
Perfection is Being There.