I have always wondered
what it would feel like to glide into water
and settle my wings down into a contented swim.
It must be one in the same feeling
as a frisbee coming home to your hand
after its slow arc through the air;
that sensation of staring into the eyes of someone
you will love for a very long time,
though you have only just met.
little satellite cycling round
hovering just out of plain sight
are you so unsure
you’ve been circling for years
only giving me flashes of who you are
why do you keep yourself away
only darting in to take a closer view
before veering away again
are you looking for one more angle to uncover
before believing that it’s safe to land
or will you continue to beat your wings
flapping furiously to hide the sound of your heart
whirring and clicking
like a strange bird among the stars
I sometimes forget that the foothills can be green.
When the sight for months on end
has only been variations of slate and brown,
dry sheaves of grass
and ever sinking, muddied ponds.
and it comes so late,
after false hopes
and late snow,
the back and forth of thawing
and refreezing under feet of snow.
but that first day
when I notice just barely perceptible
tones of olive and forest green
in the backdrop of this mountain scene,
it feels like a long-forgotten memory
has suddenly reappeared before my eyes,
that something comes alive inside of me
with the romance of spring.