Finding Feet
Mind strung out from a
days on end horizon.
Rest stop sink showers, horse bath,
shaking out tangled hair in travel center lights,
the smells of friends sublimated
to white noise.
Coming home, the streets
a melted sheet changing beneath each step.
Ice storms and an apocolypse may have come and passed,
and I’d never know.
My favorite branches covered in white flowers.
The dull ache sets in as I come back to an eager poise.
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