Today's prompt. I'd like to share a poem I admire from Nate Marshall (sorry for the cursewords, y'all).
exhale, chill from
the wind of your
lungs--boing, rushing and
cleansing. aquifers-swimming holes
deep and hidden by shade-springtime-
chill like
self-preservation:
reliving the primitive
(heat, scorch marks, the
dry season's lasting scars),
made right through the gentle
falling of rain, the budding of leaves,
cloudcover and winter's last gasps
injecting themselves into the scene--
exhale, new-cast off slumber, take up
the yoke of day, face set in the strokes
and patterns of the standards of the day;
exhale, the well is full. each breath, a new-
ness, each breath, a bargaining with the future.
see me, hear me, be close and
be safe.
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