At morning i followed the tracks
of coyotes that followed my paths
through the field rich with rabbits and mice.
At evening i ran down the lane
toward a bear that ran through the woods
toward the house heaped with dreaming and books.
What floats on the air on a recurve of wings
what stands on the ground be it rooted or legged
all native all deep in the sweetness of living
and where we belong, all of us home.
