cold and content
last fall, Austin and I drove north on the coast road to one of my heart’s truest homes –
A place where I feel like I blend flush into the landscape
with the goldenrod and the quaking grass and ferns, growing wild in their uniform lushness.
in that place, i am a wilted leaf. I am the dew, gathered on redwood fingers.
I am the pewter sky and the sea mist.
the dampness carpets my senses and shoulders – just like the hillsides, absorbing the atmosphere –
cold and shrouded, but content.