Monday, August 3, 2020

One tick ’til four, she peaks 
just before disaster 
pours itself onto us; 
adds her weight, builds its churn. 
Rough cycles spin and soak, 
hiding her. Catalyst—
fist raised in full salute, 
lit by the fading sun—
surges forward, lifting 
up the tides: a jail break 
bursting, cacophonous. 
Rivers run unbound and 
echo through the valley. 
A wave and then a snap: 
new bridges to raise up. 
Tears wiped clean, sobs slowing 
to gentle groans, once more
she peeks out grinning, sly.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week