drinking wind

the ley lines moved from reluctancy to full reveal in the space of a week,
veining secret paths out of town to the hill country that had scented her intuition as a child

~

she walked them all, finally arriving as spring mid-wifed itself into cherry blossomed glory
and a full moon marbled exactly one dry riverbed in gossamer relief

there she made her offering, pulling pixels of photographs from her phone
and dropping them happenstance on both sides

there she waited as the seeds of things she had captured took root and found their freedom again;
faces and flowers and pets and trees and clouds and water and abstracts she somehow recognized without remembering

there she watched as life latticed itself and tattooed space with colour and sound and glory
only the newly released can reveal

and there she learned to spool light and drink wind from dry mossed riverbeds
that whispered of hope, hinted at laughter, and pointed to Home