Even light and heat flow gently
when my bones are not finding resistance,
as the dogs clue me in on priorities,

showing me how to fight for a niceness
of spirit, and I want the thrill of this journey
to charge electrical circuits, to drive

my spitfire, to stifle the kind of darkness
which strives to suffocate me. As I
feel so clever for doing what the people

tell me to do, allowing the humid moss
to gather atop my skull, making me feel older
and exponentially worthless, but my steps

continue to follow one another, and the shit
gathers in between the fingers as the trees
continue to impress despite the counter-intuitive

movement of old and known trees making
a good world for me, the dogs knowing my fear
and trudging along without inclination of stopping

because they know we are close to home,
and they know that it is always possible that
something good could happen when we arrive home.

.