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As The Crow Flies

This land is not hers

Any more than it is ours

Or yours or mine.

For Crow, land is where

Ripe berries grow;

The places her family inhabits.

The water, still flowing,

Sustains not only the ones

Who make noise, but all.

Crow, she knows there is enough

Though she may need to move

To find it. And she sometimes does.

Let me fly

As Crow flies: searching and

Finding what I need.

Let me know abundance--

This land, this water,

This earth below me.

Let me share what is

Required for life

With my neighbors all around.

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