Attempted updates at the whim of the moon from the adventures of a queer on a quest to find themself and save the world.
Sunday, November 24, 2019
Day 24: Mountains
Body series 14:
Stone grows out of the earth.
Reaching for the sky.
Fighting against wind and water.
These mountains are old
Not old like the lady who sits next to you Wednesdays at the bus stop
But you think the lines in her face have a kinship
To the arches and dips of the hard rock.
These mountains are old like
Language. Old like song. These mountains remember
Their first love. They remember the curve
Of her back against their creamy white sheets.
They remember her curling hair tumbling down her spine.
These mountains grow trees:
Hemlocks and families of beeches, and bushes:
Blueberry and mountain laurels.
Home to chickadee and nuthatch in the winter
Bluebird and phoebe in the summertime.
These mountains are growing
New and jagged
Raw earth, bit by bit,
Exposing itself to the sunshine,
Not growing like like a child
But you could imagine the shifting of
Massive plates of earth might feel like growing pains
You could imagine the mountains reaching for the sky.
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