Blood runs wild without need for the heart. Free at sunset, dead at dawn. Men on horses chase me in the meadow. Two of them send me stampeding off the cliff. See me raining, dampening the red earth below. See their pleased expressions now that they've killed the untamed intruder passing through their land. Now I am sinking below them, seeping red on their hands.

When I am reborn, shape me in stone. Slickrock footpaths will trace my neck to the small of my back, tiny vertebrates will burrow in my rib cage, hollowing my bones. Sand will swirl on my surface and glitter in my wake. I will lay still as the surest stepping stone, collecting water in small potholes, gathering life in the cracks and folds. Changing and unchanged. Made new by erosion, made whole.

*written 2008, photo taken in moab, utah 2000

Almost but not quite

It would feel warm if it weren't for the wind. Last night I set out on my bike, wearing not enough layers to protect me from the punchy breeze. After a few blocks of spinning wheels my body temperature started to rise, making me believe it was already Spring. It is almost Spring, but not quite. Still, I can feel it try when the sun peaks out behind the shade of clouds, and when the man on the corner winks at me or not me but the woman behind me. I keep riding by the same homes, the same families. The kids are growing up. The cars get big. The cars get small. I see my summer cat investigating the freshly thawed ground with two swipes of his left paw. He sees me and flies. I am flashing light, a twinkle in the moon's eye, until after a few more hours when it too decides to hide.