July Small Stones
hearing a stone by Teri H Hoover
With one foot in front of the other I inch my way through an ocean of air.
My hair agreeably flies behind like fat tentacles enjoying the ride.
Say... ocean of air, what are you saying?
Slight... delicious... insistent.
Urging me again to listen.
The current of distress pulsing through my veins dissipates momentarily.
An ebb and flow continues but I succumb to the undercurrent for the rest of my two mile circle... and the rest of the day.