Homesick

There are rivers here.

That helps.

There is also powerful Earth magick, ancient spirits hidden every where.

That helps, too.

Still.  It's not quite the same.

The Mississippi is not as green as the river Nile; the soil not as black.

It's terribly cold here.

Half of the year grey and icy.

That doesn't help.

I miss the desert heat I know from muscle memory. 

What do Norse gods know?

Their people are well meaning but simple fools.

I can stay here, adopted by the Native gods who are nearly as wise as Thoth.

I can make a life for a time, adaptable as Balsalm.

Someday the sway of the water will call me back home, by the Nile in Abydos.

Until then I have you,

Lake Minnetonka and paved over Indian paths.