Yellow leaves swamping the driveway
quick hikes in the setting sun
and cool nights reading about the west
boil a feeling that makes me want to
rip out my hair and
leave marks in the wall
grab on and hold tight
until it lies still as a rotten stump
But I see wheat hair
lake-clear eyes
legs strong living branches
voice an energetic wind
words staggered as an outcropping
I fall into the feeling
your hands on my face
fingers like twigs pulling at my hair
and sink into you like quicksand
More afraid of letting go than falling
in
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