While I water tomatoes with a dented metallic waste can,
She disappears into the shadows of the backyard,
Haunted by fireflies.
For one little moment –
at nearly midnight –
the smell of campfire, of glaciers, of an aging wooden lodge carried this bed with this body
To lands and beings I love or loved.
Then, a shift, and this magic bed and this tired body
Wind, you push at me.
Earnestly. Then stop. Like a mama with her child at the door to the kindergarten classroom. Keep going. I’m right behind you. But now it’s time. Keep going. I’m on the other side of your own adventures.
I make the turn, my feet in shoes squelching mud and skittering litter from winter, that signals halfway.
Wind, you push my body my hair my wide open heart. You are pushing it and I resist. Things inside of me ache with the effort. Keep going, you say, and all I want is for you to push me home.
Keep going. By yourself.
I’ll be here on the other side of your adventures.