I'm glad the cabin is finished in Cañones.
Did Elud finish the rock wall?
The bedroom facing south?

I was less of a person then, I know.
I was less of a bird then, too.

Do the two streams still run?
The roadrunner? The crane?

Remember the night on the porch: Chinaco and chilies
by the Rio Grande, the cloud that passed over us
in the shape of your face?

We both saw it. You were the weather.

I was moving to you, to the river, but
I was not a morning dove, or a marsh hawk.

I'm sorry that I could not stay. Your name was too big for me,
twice my age—you were still running faster than water.

I moved to the farthest tip of the East,
you sent me binoculars for my bird-watching.
and a bunch of Mexican sage from the bosque.

Santiago, I am my own weather now.
Santiago, I am my own river.
Santiago, I am a better bird for flying.