Archive for the ‘original’ Category

Halfway to your house is a park I always pass and wonder about. Today, I’m stopping. There’s a sign: these woods have snakes both poisonous and non, so don’t go picking up any handsome strangers.

The first hot day in January, the woods are full of couples with dogs and children. The cute boys hike in pairs, smiling at each other. I smile back.

The trail markers show me every tenth of a mile I walk away from civilization, away from you.

I touch the trees as gently and intimately as if we met in a one-night club. I lean in to smell the sap in their broken places. I press my bearded cheek to their rough skins and leave a kiss.

When the going is steep I pick up speed, running, legs wide, leaping from far right to far left. My lungs expand and I gulp the air deeply, freely.

Tonight you’ll find someplace dark and noisy, where every shot is a lover and every eye is hungry. I hope you find what I’ve discovered in the quiet shade. Every tree is a home, every pond an oasis, every step a miracle.