old poem, new meaning

*I am craving the sights, sounds, and smells of Northern Minnesota.

Sanctuary
I still dream of
Water
And the sunburn on my face
The inching, climbing, moving
Through a liquid, living space
I still dream of
Fire
Of its warmth and golden rays
Of our beaten, sunswept bodies
Put to sleep beneath its gaze
I still dream of
Air
Of breathing in and breathing out
Of the fog above the early dew
And the morning whispershout
I still dream of
Nature
Of Her elements, Her skin
Teaching me, at last the art
Of living outside in