In an attempt to be brief

here is a moment I felt truly alive:

when the wind-hurtled leaves convulsed

in the dirt and I caught the tang of turmoil in the air

as rain-soaked eyes and misty trees

all merged into one song.


forget the malleability of flesh

‘twas brave, the woman
who wandered up a winding path of
crispy leaves
toward a glowing distant peak.
and as her gaze
took in the lowering
of the sun she felt a shiver scuttle
up her spine, not
for fear of darkness or
of solitude,
but for the unrelenting cold that creeps
with dusk’s farewell
into her bones and lingers
long past dawn, a thorough chill
in which she steeps until-
the malleability of flesh, the stinging tingle
that accompanies heat-
she neglects to move at all,
and curls instead into a ball
at the foot of a quaking aspen tree,
where she sinks into
the wilderness;
forever alone and finally free.


Chasing Waves

I know these days
will crash over
me like waves
if I let them, but I am learning
to be strategic. I hop nimbly
over the small waves, playfully avoiding the
spray of water as they reach the shore. I hold
my breath for the longer ones, knowing I will burst
through on the other side, light-headed and giddy
with the joy of sea salt air. I jump headlong
into the scariest, most forceful waves,
because using that power to propel me
deeper is the only way I know how
to not be knocked flat and swallowed
by the undertow.