There is something
In the lake that
Beckons me back
To where it all started
The thrill that strokes my spine
In scaling the marsh
The soft sighs I heave
As a green garter snake
Crosses a narrow path
The allure that secret
Islands of hyacinths possess
The mild scent of banyan trunks
That graze my skin
The freshwater tang
Left on my sunbaked hair
The childlike joy
In scooping out innocent fries
Along the intrepid riverbank
The mystery of my ancient spirit
Piece by piece repaired.
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