i want to find water where water has not been found. 

i feel in dry earth, the possible—where empty, now—roots,

thick, clustering, talking. i am better, mending,

with conversation in the ground. what do you hear? 

the swarming? talk of beetles, iron, algae.  

even roots hedge their bets and gamble

against water. i do this dream because i am looking 

for swaddling, but unable to release the going, the

direction, the faith that following groundwater

will bring me where i need. the roots are dancing too, now. 

they swing slow, they dowse towards drinking. 

we all dream of soil that clots again.