Thresholds

9/1
for Megan

These last days run, a watercolor still
wet from the brush, sliding together
in great, shining strokes. Laden,
sunlight like tears too bright
not to weep. I am looping
back along a span
of double-promised sunsets, cross
leggéd in the grass, knees slung
together unconscious and at ease. I am returning
to asphalt miles of stories, racing by, of laughing
wisdom and the ways that I
was kindled. I am circling
to how you held
her hand, to the ivy-grown porch and
the butterflies, where I watched
you watch the stars.

These last days run, and I am running
too, running to hold them back, running
to keep them close, but running
also toward the edge
of something that will not come
unless I do, the threshold from which brink
I want to leap. There is a deep
and animal joy here, wild as the way
you defy the heavy earth and kick
your heels at the sun. It hurls itself
upon me, sinks into me, ripping
with wonder-bared teeth at my throat.

 

7 Comments Add yours

  1. Kimberly C Goodling says:

    :)

    Liked by 1 person

  2. rebekah elle says:

    your poetry is always so beautiful and this honestly may be one of my favorites.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Anna Estelle says:

      Aww <3 That means a whole lot, coming from you. Thanks, Rebekah =)

      Liked by 1 person

  3. navii says:

    ahhhhh my september heart is so full reading this!! <3

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Anna Estelle says:

      Autumn is such a poetry time of year, isn’t it?

      Liked by 1 person

      1. navii says:

        it really is! :)

        Like

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