You, me.

Flutter open heart again. Let in slowly, absorb what you are giving me.
So sudden.
So easy.
A battered piece is gliding once again. Smoothly, aware.
Patient, this is growing. Yeast working through gluten. Strands forming and stretching. Carbon dioxide giving height,
and texture.
Slip in, stay awhile.

Morning run, trails. Sea.

Crispy wind flows through my arms and down my back.

Crash, waves. foamy sea, high on slick crags. Uneven rocks, winding dirt.

Desert flowers. Snapping sounds, tapping feet, rhythmic pulse and oxygen surges. Lungs sting and pull in sweet air. Birds, you point out, are giving us a soundtrack this morning.

We are part of it, the dirt is pulling us in and releasing us back. It is slighlty comfortable.

Prefumo canyon, morning visit

Stubborn fog clings in the oaks
Verdant, deep green circles the valley and chokes out the drying grass on steep slopes.
Contrast
life-seeking leaves and grass that grew and gave up
parched mixes into veritable shades of browns and greens, dotting the hills.
Mountains, ancient and rocky, fight for higher air, beating up against each other, reaching upward.
A new valley now. Thick apple orchards swimming together in one whole piece. New fruit waits for autumn hands to come,
to grasp and pull the sweet globes.
Sticky juice prepares to run down chins.
Fog lifts as the valley winds south. Salty air smacks into the rich fruit-infused layer
and the dry grass gives off its unmistakable perfume.

Growing season

Our garden has no order. Carefully sown seeds sprouted and buried deep
in the rich soil. Carrots on top of lettuce on top of
basil, and tomatoes. We tried lots of tomatoes.
Corn in the middle. Always in the middle.
I'm coming out, too. We're trying this together.
Sun, full-sunny days and a nutrient-rich environment.
Soft substrate. Caring hands around.
We'll be fruitful this year and we'll nourish. Swelling fruit and spicy herbs. Sweet lavendar,
sensuous and subtle. Oregano and onions.

Casting a net, casting you away

You drifted into my dreams this morning
those early morning dreams, where the feeling stays with you
sometimes all day.
You were this beautiful un-graspable thing,
which was mostly true.
And I woke up sad, realizing you are truly gone now.
I'm splitting our friendship, I'm casting you away.
Circular net, thrown out in a perfect pancake circle.
to catch bait fish.
Heart, move on. Heart let go.

Anymore

The view from your bed
was not quite as peaceful as had seemed, in my reveries.
The leafless trees, dead.
The air, dry.
Your grasp feeling different.
Home is not in your arms
anymore.

The answer to my question

I'm slipping away from you.
That old familiar feeling of my heart detaching,
unwinding itself from your grasp,
and smelling freedom.
I've learned how to live without you. It hardly leaves a sting now.
It used to be a slice.
Cold, and deep, splitting.
It's liberating to find answers now,
the discovery of mixed-up questioning, festering beneath.
I know now.
My heart, my personality does not belong under your control
or in a foreign land.
I'm going home now.
Relieved.