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Photograph One:
Uncut grass tickles my ankles and the dankness radiating from the cut stone, shadowed at the wall's foot, chills the backs of my calves. Behind me the view stretches for vertiginous miles, and I know when I turn to look at it I'll feel I could lift my arms and let the wind fill imaginary wings. I could soar on the dense blue mist, track my way across familiar landscape below. My lungs fill with the smell of pine and grass and stone; my heart feeds on the blue distance, my roots go deep.
Photograph One:
Uncut grass tickles my ankles and the dankness radiating from the cut stone, shadowed at the wall's foot, chills the backs of my calves. Behind me the view stretches for vertiginous miles, and I know when I turn to look at it I'll feel I could lift my arms and let the wind fill imaginary wings. I could soar on the dense blue mist, track my way across familiar landscape below. My lungs fill with the smell of pine and grass and stone; my heart feeds on the blue distance, my roots go deep.