by Marissa Bell Toffoli.
The clouds elude you.
Don’t let it matter.
Open yourself
to the shadows.
Notice leaf, blossom, twig,
flute, flutter, screech, scratch.
Heavy is your moss-covered heart.
Listen for the whisper
of your roots. Let the day’s
tangerine fingers caress you.
Blue wind will float your thoughts
if you free them.
Your knotholes house secrets,
your branches become keys
for stubborn locks.
What survives is trapped
by all that has gone before.
Winged we are not,
yet we yearn for flight.
The gods may not grant your wishes,
but they will wear your rings.