Trees are poems that earth writes upon the sky, We fell them down and turn them into paper, That we may record our emptiness
hand, clammy and catching streams, moisture runs through cracks, thick and cold.
hand, clasps and unclasps the railing as she walks, jumps over spaces, airborne briefly and the cool breeze of dusk is felt between her fingers, that flap of skin where finger meets hand exposed only to close as it opens. Hand, back down to railing.
wet sweat still now, opens to the night air, sticking to skin, cooling. the sweat stops as she stops, as she stops and holds the railing, holds the railing with the hand feeling the thick moisture. Night air breathes the sweat on her skin; cooling her head, warming her heart, breath back into her soul.
ears throb, heart pounds. the Giant insider her ears pushes, rhythmically with big feet, throbbing ear drums signal deep breaths, deep breaths bring her heart from her ears back down to her chest.
Exhaling into the night, she looks up at the beyond. eyes smile, hand jumps on railing and the night is felt cold between fingers.
natalie, I miss you terribly.