It's days like this when I'm feeling something
something in the slap of the wind
something in the vibe from the grass.
To place a finger on it would only increase the
discomfort, ambiguity, deception.
What is this we are after to gain?
Are we mere mortals?
or do we feel beyond our sensory fail.
I hold my tongue
in an effort to dam this spitting buildup of words
wilting ferns and bodacious promises.
as if the moon itself lay hand to this thoughtful tide.
Again I am not one to chase what knowledgeably, fearfully
will inevitably, quickly return.
I run, trip, fall, hurt,
limb by fatigued limb
beat by beat
to the source of You.