Returning Home

I got up to see the rivershimmer in the full moon's light.Something about the way currentand reflected clouds workedon a shifting surface would tell mefor sure I was home and not stillin Spain. Lolling driftwood flickeredon the bank. Almost lost in shadow,a sailboat rocked at anchor nearthe island's north tip and from timeto time, because I knew they werethere, I saw the great blue heronnests clustered at the treetops.I thought if my body knew whereit was, sleep would come. But whenmy wife called from bed I knewI had gotten up only to return to her.