the house where dew-eagles nest [a poem]

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may be just a house

yet it resonates with and through me…

adobe bricks

and mud-plastered walls

contain sounds

and smells

that echo in me as well

haven’t lived there in years

but really, i’ve never left

this house and i emerged from the same soil

we hear grandma’s ancient hymns

through the same set of ears

may be just a house

yet is stores my

green-gold dreams

for dew-eagles to spread and cleanse

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