at the perfect time,
a shift in life,
a mind ruffled by breeze
in need of physical motion.
Phases of my life can be defined by events and locations,
whereas sitting still
causes things to blur together,
like a piece of paper
too soaked with water color, pooling in one place
so that all the colors meet in the fold
as a brown puddle
rather than a beautiful rainbow
spread from one edge to the other.
When in doubt,
hopelessness or fear,
mountains can contextualize the smallness of your life,
and sky scraping trees,
massively gentle spirits,
allow dismissal of pain and discord.
In times of elation
and satisfaction, too,
mountains raise your soul into the sky,
alive among jagged rocks;
a soft and delicate life
of infinite peace.
I love heading West
where all the world’s suns