By Bonnie DiSalvo
There was once upon a time
when street signs made sense
and lines gave directions.
But the waters came
and turned me around
causing waves of confusion
and unsteady ground.
Now earthworms work
along side of me
as we break down
and rebuild.
Between my fingers
they whisper to me
as I sort
through stones and memories.
They tell me of the crickets
who are preparing to sing
of present moments
intertwined with blood moons
and stories of long ago and far away.

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