March. Morning Earth is somber and cold, but by afternoon she’s Bikini Mud Wrestling, slutty and reeking of Want.
I am tired of settling, tired of waiting for the Spring Forest that will explode into life when Things Are Calmer.
I want to buy a tiny RV: a bare-bones, bed-only, pull-behind-my-jeep glorified box-on-wheels. I want to set off alone to see my country before it disappears. I want to live invisibly and taste a wild and solitary freedom. I want to disappear until I am strong in myself, until I am confident.
I want to be *me* again.
there is the scent of yarrow
by my sleepy footsteps
on a warm july morning