Loose

I wake with a start to the monotonous alarm gone off in the not-quite-morning, setting in motion all the things in a day that can’t be stopped.

After dressing, out of the large bedroom window I observe the sun beginning what could be its optimistic rise over the serrated tree line.

The trees bordering our property clench at the last of autumn’s harlequin leaves in their mournful fists, but for one Herculean tree that has fallen, the wide nieve of its root mass ripped up and resting bare above a loamy gouge in the grassy bed.

Downstairs, all around me, they busy themselves eating the breakfast I’ve prepared and readying for the day, oblivious to the storms inside me, which also can’t be stopped.

This time of year, the ground outside takes on water until it is nothing but soft sponge, just before it begins its slow, deep freezing.

Inside, the ground beneath my feet is also beginning an unsettling softening, the imminent chill of winter threatening to make home in the fading marrow of my papery bones.

Like the lamented tree, I seem to have come loose from my station in life.

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown

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There

I long to be there,
where the world is not held together by nails and lumber and glass,
where there are no neon signs blinking, no never-ending tracks and metal systems stuck on repeat,
where there are no glowing devices beckoning,
and narrating every move

I long to be there,
where the treetops dance and hum a whispered concerto,
where wildlife is welcome to be wild,
clicking and crackling and chirping as they share their habitat,
where shades of gold, russet, and sage color the earth,
multiplying and transforming beneath my fingertips and before my eyes

I long to be there,
where the shoreline is speckled with cattails and reeds rustling in the breeze,
where wind-rippled waters reflect the lazy streaks of sun-bleached clouds above,
where the smell of damp earth at the break of dawn is better than anything Starbucks serves

I long to be there,
where the whole world opens up,
bright and clear,
where land and sky and water bleed into one another,
soaking each other,
where they mix and mingle until it’s hard to know which is which

I long to be there,
where the forest always welcomes,
the sky never ends,
and the water always begins

I long for there
to be out my back door

-image is mine

Destiny

perhaps solitude is my destiny

being alone isn’t easy
but diving through my own sea
trying to understand the waves
often makes more sense than
asking anyone else
to grab diving gear

and I’m not a surfer

~image credit scubadiverlife.com