A river
A lake
An ocean
Even water
from the sky
That has yet
to find its new temporary accommodations
Mark a line
On the walls
of your
House
Like
teenagers do with pocket knives on the trees in the local state park
You erase
the marks
The initials
written over double hearts
With the languid
carelessness of a squirrel preparing for winter
New walls
New floors
New paint
Channels to
redirect
The river
Lake
Ocean
Even the water
from the sky
Should the
whim move it
To return
To a spot it
hadn’t been to in years
To renew and
venerate connections
Muck like
F.C. and C.B.
In the woods
On a perfect
summer day
With not a
cloud in the sky
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