gumusservi
“An addiction is anything we do to avoid hearing the messages that body and soul are trying to send us.”
I smell the cherry blossoms more than the dirt.
Springs informal announcement.
Too slowly have I noticed the nuance in sensuous details.
Buds break to catch the light on their tongues.
Butterscotch-scented bark peels to reveal terracotta insides.
The heat withers everything. My face is tight as a mango.
The old pines are streaked blond like my hair.
Party streaks, Josies says.
Youth is the party streak, cutting through the middle of the page.
I want to be the crease of a bird wing—the final fold of an origami swan.
My orbit grows wider with each year with unhurried movements dictating form.
A rotation period extends to Venus; it takes me 243 days to write a short story.
I complete a bit of dialogue in nine hours.
Three things I’ve unearthed in 30-days in Flagstaff:
My body is a honeycomb; I nest of caves to be explored.
My mind is a cork; light, elastic, and resistant to friction.
My spirit is a dolphin; playful, social, and wise.
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You are a resilient swan, Adriana says.
I believe her.
Photo source.
