Squeeze my eyes closed on a fall day, leaves orange and brown and gold, blinding late afternoon sun, suddenly no leaves and all gray, spindly, barren arms twisting toward the glowing light, tangled undergrowth, smelling the earth’s decay spreading under a fallen tree, everything fallen, walking my way back to you in a dream made up by a tiring imagination, step here and there snapping twigs, something small scurries by my foot and disturbs the dazed awake-walking, to you to you to you, climb the rocks, skin my knee, stop for a shot of the past closing in, the swallowing yawning mouth of every soul that has lived and died, holding my hand, touching my cheek, onward weary traveler into the afternoon, onward and onward and over again and repeating, Sufjan on repeat, eyes closed and dancing with golden light on my fingertips. -rjm 2007
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Jo McCrory is a writer and artist living in northern California.
One response to “15”
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I like your work Rhonda Jo and look forward to “catching up” with what I have been missing.😃
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