Oh, I feel like mother of the world, with two children fighting

Young, I would gather the yard stuffing 
life’s shrapnel into my pockets
‘til the waistband weighed down,
sat on my velcro laces. An anxious 
attachment, fractured the day the storm 
gave us more than we could carry.

Since, we’ve relaid the river bed.
Got rid of the kink, spared the cargo 
a bending. The bees on the flowering 
rosemary make up for the babble, the hum.
It is a crucial balance, after all.
Indiana Jones and his sack of sand.

I desired to be like the heron,
the way the neck seems excess yet
vanishes to almost nothing to fly.
After the storm, I watched
as the Northern Cardinal took
only enough of abundance. Somehow
able to lift while weightless,
nearly.

---

Regarding the title, it is a wonderful line from a Bill Callahan song. I’ve always loved it and especially his delivery. Recommended. 

Currently reading a book about the history of the Duwamish River (the river that at one point connected Mt. Rainier to Puget Sound). Separately, I was reminded of an image recently - the changing boundaries of the Mississippi over time (below)

From National Geographic

Thanks for reading!