Living or Dead Things

April 25, 2019

In the early dawn,

drawn from sleep, I snake through

dewy grass. Light gleams off of these

fresh blades, in the foreground


of the thicket. Voluptuous oak and pine

tower over these younglings and


 this youngling, with damp Converse.

Forsythia fondle my feet as I follow


moist soil and observant raspberries.

Despite my wish to be enveloped by


leaves, blanketed by birch, I burst

out of this vibrant archway, smoked out


by the requirements of my education.

I move past the broken-chain-link.


My smudged charcoal shoes

touch grey faux-stone and


a small leaf sticks to my shoelace,

attempting to trick me into turning back.

Yet, at the touch of pavement, sight of a

Marlboro butt, the school bell tolling: wilts.


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© 2023 by MCLA Spires.