Cross-Country (the
so
trail)
run this road alone a lot
I
I like the sound of my feet Pounding a few steps closer And the whipping of my wild Real and ready to be fixed
On
home
this dirt, again
My creativity,
I
hear the poetry
like
Some days
I
it may be Muse
humble as
Feels the breath of the
Laboring
hair
my own
pass through miles of countryside
Daises, willows, chestnuts, foxes, fog Then... somehow, the sun bleeds through the hourglass
mountains
And an I
invisible
dagger approaches to pierce
glance around blindly only to hear
my
in
Vulnerable to
trip
on these growing roots
And
if this
Then
wonder quietly
I
raise
the forest
jog was
my
all
for naught
head
And see your shimmering promise in You had to remind me of the reasons And return once again to
the sky.
I
Sand,
dirt,
pavement, rock
And You
Lorelei Winters
side
midnight steps
Thump thumping I
my
