I feel the planets pulling west

but there’s a northern light

moaning my name.

The valley is shifting again.

The trees are being stripped

leaf by leaf and they shimmy

in a growing restlessness.

I follow trees, bending limbs to ground.

The wind eavesdrops

as I confess

to the sleeping garden.

I’ve traded small ideas about sidewalks

and wildflowers for larger concerns

like finding peace in sorting laundry and

the quiet of midnight when day is done.

When the dark becomes too much,

I listen to my breath,

imagining the mechanics are similar behind movement and storytelling.

I try to be still but wander with my eyes and find little rest because

even air moves

and with it, untold dances I want to try.