TWILIGHT

Precipitation

The trail releases me,
the climb now a warm sensation in my body

Do I have perspective?
I have a vantage point
I can see the cottage where I will sleep

My heart pounds to be here again
memory, fantasy, now real
embodied in this structure, this property

What does it mean to craft something?
To maintain it?
to repair it?
To abandon it?

In the humidity, time seems to stop
cicadas call in suspended animation
Gathering clouds build into anvils of moisture
Do we gain wisdom? When?

Suddenly the wind shifts
The whitish underside of leaves shows
The four distinct seasons of New England
and our hierarchy of needs:
food, shelter, clothing, love
as we live the mind-body problem

Decay and the power of time
the boundaries of land, of a person
this is a collaboration, a negotiation,
that needs mending

The storm breaks:
rain
sky becomes air
air becomes water
boundaries collapse

Breathing, walking, swimming
Breathing, walking, swimming
Breathing, walking, swimming
Breathing, walking, swimming