Fall 2020 + Winter 2021 Writings

For a Walk

Woke without the usual tension
The good rest had come
So to spring from the center was reflexive

Slapped with scents that conjured deja vu
Joints remember how they can move
And fresh mud is cool to the touch
From beneath the boot up to the medulla

Still branches bear ancient winds
And the heart contracts when it hears the traces
Expands when the soil firms up

Breathing was easiest just after high noon
When the warmth sedated the racing parts
On which aches and restlessness perched

Good sleep came once waiting grew patient
And the sun shone the leaves intact

The river runs deep
Like a boulder tied to the root of a tree, the tallest stance anchors for good. Eons wouldn’t have known the sounds had they seeped. At the bottom, silence knew something better.

The river runs dry
Forget your net, forget the way back. What’s done is wondrous and light. Everything flows until the reset — then clockwise to the watering hole. The gasp for rejuvenation.

We’re withered but firm. Without hesitation, arms raise. And embers flick knees around the huddle. From the heat: unity. When approached with a proposition, we take the shot. And save a drop for summer.

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