It feels like I’ve been peeking

from behind a curtain

at most things,

being present and visible

only to my own bumps and scars.

I’d like to sing out loud

but it comes out barely a whisper.

I’d like to greet the world with open arms

but I catch myself clenched and unwilling.

I’d like to take more than a moment

to breathe deep the late summer green,

but my hills won’t wait for me

and autumn will be upon us both soon.