One spring over barbed wire
I quit the straight and narrow
for open fields where wild
grasses brush the sunlight
clean of exhaust. I wander
into foothills tight with underbrush,
a snake desperate to shed its itch
against rough stone. I peel away
my white, unwritten shirt,
dropping my tie in red dust,
weaving deeper, deeper until
church bells are stifled and I can hear
again the rush of blood and leaves.
Crooked, my path twists through shade,
mud swallows my shoes, stepping free
the icy stream carries my footprints away.
