Missing Crane

I have to find my self again
Among the bull rushes
And fluttering red
Robes of their
Matadors

I am sorry to have wandered
So far away from home

Where I have to ask directions
From children playing on
Sidewalks near parks
Along snake river

Built up or dug deep into banks
Where small furtive birds
Constantly fly and
Play with me

Now beside myself with new fears
Swimming upwards through
The salt of so many tears

I find the right way into the woods
Where out of the forest stood
A grove of kissing cranes