on my way

I walked past a dead racoon,
lying stiff and bloated in the street.
It faced the curb,
Nestled into the wet concrete,
As rainwater
Rushed past
Its body.

Tip of my Tongue


I had a dream I was searching for a magic herb. I had forgotten its name, and each time I tried to curl my lips around that name- it escaped me. I imagined its bright fragrance, it's freshness, and the desire for it almost consumed me- I could think of nothing else. I remembered the tale of Rapunzel's pregnant mother, whose want for such a wonderous green caused her to give up her unborn child. This was the strength of its power.

I kept searching- asking everyone-but I learned nothing of its whereabouts. I could describe it down to the finest detail, but without the name I was lost. At last I stopped and just simply took a breath...

Reverence.

This was the name, the word, the fresh green of my mind.

As I awoke I let reverence escape my lips, and was satisfied.