Just after
the sun rises over the Caballo Mountains
And the lake begins to shimmer azure and indigo
I hear the shrill sweet trill of
sandhill cranes,
flock after flock ,
high in the bluest, deep blue sky.
Returning to Socorro in
dark vee formations.
Fall beckons me like a siren out
Into the beauty of the world.
Rich in color, softly dying.
Even as I learn the lesson of falling leaves,
my heart sings in concert
with the cranes.
My soul leaps to ride
on their wide, wild wings.
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