Creekside

These places exist,
where we cannot be.
They take
and they give
what has always
been free.
We designate
ownership. like yours
and like mine.
For you,
there’s a grape
that grew
on my vine.

All the grass
has dried up
in this arid place.
Who owns this
and lives here,
and just
takes up space?

My feet
want to walk,
and pass
quickly by.
There’s mountains
to climb.
And I’ll look
at the sky.

I’ll make my
own messes
and clean them up too.
I don’t want
to sit still,
there’s so much to do.

 

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