I ease into the spine,
careful not to rip or tear,
hearing that new page sound;
a spreading of toes
preparing to feel the ground
in case it tries to slip away
from me.
A deep inhale
before setting the fingers to work,
elegantly stretching from right
to left
as eyes blur left
to right.
Strength flows up my arms
congealing in my head.
The saliva on my tongue
tastes
of salt;
bittersweet meetings,
conversations left unsaid
where
there was so much to say.
I arch upwards,
clearing away the tide
that fills my lungs,
exhaling
the raw.
I step back to mountain;
the cover shuts.
My body tingles
with satisfaction.
My mind
is famished.
Treeshallow Musings 