Creekside Lullaby

I spent two months sleeping creekside. 
As I was rocked to sleep each night by the rushing lullaby, 
The dreamscape was purified by the collection of winter rain. 
It became part of me, this rhythm, as if my heart beat and blood flowed along with the rippling of the water. 
Finally we’d emerged out of drought. 
The sky opened up and satiated the earth, so thirsty and dry. 
A cycle, a gift, unbeknownst to any expectations. 
How can we understand the wisdom of which this earth body operates?
Science looks for signs, for patterns, to unravel the mystery. 
I remember when article after article was published about our impending doom. 
The earth would just keep getting hotter, 
Maybe we’d have to live underground, who knew.
And yet, when I see dew drops feeding magnolia blossoms,
Exquisitely colored tulips reaching up from earth towards spring sun, 
I know we don’t know.
What I do know is that right now,
The river gushes, held steady by stable rock.
I know kneeling and offering prayers to her current helps me know her as kin. 
I know pressing forehead to pine, listening for just this moment, helps to remember.
The genius of this natural technology is beyond our capacity to make sense of it all.
How could it be so brilliantly resilient?
Everything interwove into a familiar symbiosis. 
The womb of nature holds me and I hold it. 
We kindly nod at each other saying, “Still here, still here. Take care, take care. Remember home.”

Gavrila Nikhila

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