A Trail Of Breadcrumbs
There are places that have an energy
that dances with your own energy
It infuses your cells, blood, soul
It is the feeling of
sienna waves on an April stream
a chorus of resurrected peepers
flour transforming into bread
It is the feeling of home
There are times you get to live in this place
A place where you finally fully
exhale the daggers, thorns, chains
you’ve been carrying in your heart
A place where you wrap yourself
in a cocoon of century old checkered quilts
drink steaming seas of earl grey
There are moments when the lilacs bloom
their fragrance becomes your breath
there are moments when a cardinal’s wings become your own
the moan of a crow becomes your language
There are people you love more than
April streams, earl grey and cardinal wings
there are people who smell like cookie dough and diesel
there are people you marry in a place called Hope
there are people who ask you to move away
and
you move away
There are looks that last forever
A black bear searches for pears
our eyes melt in an ocean of yesterdays
There are goodbyes you never want to have
she knew I wouldn’t be there in June
I wouldn’t be there to breathe lilacs
or translate the cries of crows