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even wheni can't see the mountaini know it's still there
if i go for a walkwithout my phonedid it really happen?
there have been mountainsin every phase of my life--climbing them has not been optional
startled --awakened by the screamsof my dying youth
after the raina mist hoversin the street
in the streetsome of the holeswinter left behind
in the endall i'll have:i was born, i lived, i died
"Stop here!" she said.
39 degreesovercast and rainythe sound of damp streets
a walk to the pondleaves me wet but not soaked --glorious drizzle
searching for new waysto stay active and build strength --kettlebell
my entire lifeput on holdby the cat in my lap
jasmine adrifton the wavesof my mindsea
She puts down the spoonand turns to face him."Too much mustard in the sauce."