Molded by howling winds, and bent by the rocks I was thrown against; my body has become an object welded by the natural. Layers unfold, blooming with the coming together of sun and showers. In the sweet summer it rises high above the ridges, dosed with alpenglow in the late evening. By the fall I am wilted, ready for a winter slumber.
I am a single ice cube, dropped into a steaming bowl of soup, trying to cool out the situation. My feet wander me towards places familiar, and through deep, lush, green forests when no one is looking. I love the interactions with others both, big and small. The missed faces that people hurry by. Cool nights, in a chair, by a bed, with a friend that I have missed.
I love those who once loved me, still do, and will at some point.