Reid@YWP

… What is this? 

Is it … 

No. 

It can’t be. 

But … 

It looks like … 

Good news? 

And a feeling, something almost forgotten. 

Hope? 

I'll forget

(the exact words,

too many to remember)

(I wish I wouldn't,

I want to have you with me

always)

what you said.

I'll forget

(if we shared lunch

or went downtown

A day as grey as

the clouds above it

And the hills, which have changed from green to orange to purple to a deepest blue in the fading light

with a few bursts of yellow from the beech trees, holding on in their marcescence

My virtual home

where I can make my words dance and no one can change the choreography

where I can be loved by other people like me

where I can realize that I'm not as alone in the world as I originally thought

Charcoal 

is our preferred method 

with which to sketch our days 

thick, dark swaths of pigment 

that smear and make their mark 

unapologetically 

When I was very little, my Mom took me on a trip to Arizona. She was strong back then, a long-time hiker just like my dad was when the two still knew each other.