From Mountains to Sand

Entering an era at the river

You are my daybreak, mi querido.

The pause in the clamor,

colliding bodies,

falling into your words.

Appalachian winds, rainwalk-

the line fell.

When you poke light through the stars, it’s okay.

The spotlight, preparation for departure, in flight.

While sitting on a park bench in California, along the north central part of our story,

what is this thing we’re promised?

Broken cassette mix tape,

the peace, glacier river.

Until we meet again.