Worn, Reworn
I would go exploring
on a green and stony trail.
Downward, downward
to a time when I
was so much smaller,
eight or nine,
into cool limestone and
the prickle-smell of pine,
and the thump-thump
of my steady steps
that pull back and
release forward, fighting
and chasing the slope,
deeper into the wonder
of a remembered world
I’ve suddenly never touched before.
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