Moist. And so much green around.
I must be back east.
The forests of my childhood, with the large rocks I clambered on.
Once I was especially loving the stone and
my own boy energy carrying me over one,
then another in delighted
speed.
My grandmother was along, on this particular Appalachian excursion.
She waited with some patience for me to return to the trail
Until the patience ran out, as I'd been waiting for it to, and she hollered me
back.
She did love this earth -- whatever part of it she found herself living in.
The histories of its people, the feel of its rocks against the hand
and leaves between the fingers.
Albuquerque, 2004.02.26
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