wander to the high chasm
to where you hear it floating
to where the great river border moves
where winter is washing the old forest’s burned patchwork
and the moss is still grieving, even as it is freezing
follow it
that sound
to where it is dark and bright and silent
where it is so open that there is no echo
where the shadows are as harsh as the sun
and the ancient walls face each other, stoic as mirrors
go ahead
run to that wide sky channel
to where it is blank and still and quiet
where there is nothing above the water plain
that space between states where there is only fog
and all the world, a single color
Kristin Howe (she/her) is a writer, artist, hiker, biker, and fair-weather runner living in Portland, Oregon with her dog, Willow.
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