Speak it to me warmly so
I can hear.
Allay my fears.
All I want is to know you better
so my bones don’t shatter every time
you want to talk to me.
a film noir in February,
and the douglas firs on the ridge looked like
castles in the fog.
it has always been this way.
From the onset of my first failure
to the day I sailed to your door
I have seen poorly and heard the thunder
on sunny days.
dogs
to ease into a winter sun that reflected off the
green glass water where boats moored still as
stopped clocks. The ducks dove below the surface
nonchalantly grabbing lunch.
Remind me then.
All I want is to breathe easier
so my arms don’t shake every time
I sit down to write.
that sing of Scottish highlands.
I hear fiddles and babies bawling for
their mothers.
I hear the sheep bleating, the sky receding,
and evening calling out to dance.