It is Tuesday, this disappointment, this rally. To begin again. I fill my pockets with stones. I finger them, their clacking, this friendship. The toes of my shoes are wet. The road leads down from here. This breath, this exposure, will have to see me through the close and winding. I will leave the remembering to my skin and bones. I will trust my body and its knowing. I will carry the light of this height down among the roots and mosses. I will see what I will see. I will give what is asked of me.
Telling: Streams & Logs