Weekend Warriors

February 7, 2009

Saturday journeys
A silvery bug
Skittering across the map
Three to one
Cold waves brush my ankles
Ribbons and sugar
A red wandering, we
Refused to stop
The kind of memory
That tastes sweet
Upon your tongue, lungs
Filled with salt
Yellow lines and forest
On either side
Sunlight leaks through the
Sylvan green shadows
Illuminating the reality of it all
We are free