and the day outside illuminated still | the way a fall hour careens about | the winds of seasons prior | easily enveloped in a fermata of circumstance
All I’ve ever wanted, I told you, was to dream,
and to live deep and barely sleep and feel every single thing.
Then, from another rider’s conversation, I hear
“this is what it means”
so I’m thinking “to be in transit” seems an appropriate addendum
this is what it means to be in transit.
And once entwined, again we’d be
two-spirited, alive and free.
And we answer | as potted seeds of spring | unfurling ourselves to saltwater stems,
and it all feels somewhat relaxing
how each of us is here,
together and waiting,
in a relative manner at least,
"...It is the strangest thing that happens
when my whole world goes inside-out.
I rearrange the puzzle and then eviscerate my doubt."