The Way

The path to the river

Is green again

The earth is firm

But tender

Beneath my feet

The grass lays itself

Down as I walk

The way

To the water

Is straight

And sure

And soft

Still

Well, life has been catching up to me and catching me from behind. I had planned to do 30 poems in 30 days for NaPoWriMo, like I did for the past two years, but instead I will be doing 21 poems in 21 days, starting today!

I dreamed

I was nothing

but solid stone

in the middle of the river's constant flow

I stayed put

through flooding, draining

snowing, raining,

rushing, lapping

sediment and clarity--

was all the same to me

I was the perfect answer

to perpetual motion

I was still

But the dream did not last

long enough

for me to know

what it was I felt

resignation

peace

contentment

numbness

and whether it was enough

to observe

but not witness

to be carved

so slowly

as to never

truly

notice

Santa Ana Winds

Image from LATimes

I scatter the debris
Of your unacknowledged
Exhalings

Dirty your hair with it
Knotting it into a nest
Of frustration
Tangling it with distrust

Batter your eyes with it
Pushing against your guardian lashes
And rubbing it in
Leaving you squinting red

Punish your lips with it
Until they are cracked
And cannot round
Into a no without bleeding

Today's NapoWrimo Prompt 17 asked us to write about one of the elements. I don't feel like this is finished yet, but it is what it is for now.