On an island in the ocean,
reaching through cold fog, were trees
old and wise
We stood, enamored with their size
Taking in the long lines of their strong limbs
wanting to climb up
and in
You stood, eyeing the pines with a grin
We waded across a brackish stream
towards mountains
of barnacles and bare roots
larger than our bodies
covered in dirt and a salty glaze
fully exposed to the raw sea air
Warmth returns
to the land
to my toes, legs and hands
and to the way we speak, in our ups and downs
Warmth returns to the frozen ground
Warm breezes pass between us
reminding us of all the reasons
to even try
to stay alive
and stay up late to stare at the night sky
Reminding us: it will soon be July!
Nighttime walking
when the cold bites
and the little lights line the streets
like crooked teeth in the night’s wily smile
We walk a while
We wait for feelings that were once erased
We know they can’t be replaced so we chase them
into snowy streets
onto ice sheets where cars don’t dare to drive
We hope to come alive
We walk a while
and try to find our smiles
The trees droop
despite their lack of leaves
Sunbeams reach in between
and find the place where you and me lay
pressed against each other’s cheeks
Birds skip along bronzed branches
making pinecone dancers
Chorus lines that silently swing in time
to the rhythm of the soft twilight
Breezes move twisted trees
and dried up leaves teeter on the tips of stripped branches
Their quick dances end when their stems are ripped
and the leaves are whipped into misty air
leaving the branches bare
Birds break pods of plants long gone
interrupting each other with chatter and song
Elsa Curtis | I like to write 