Warm wind whispers
at ankles. (Swish, swish.)
Slivers of light pull, beckon.
Tentative friction,
firm and warm, pushes
(a force)
and she takes
a step.
And another
and another, firmwarmfriction,
and zoom. No, less a zoom, more a roar.
A lion of
wind gushes and pushes away, and she steps back.
The lion back
in its cave, she blurs across the street
(firm friction)
and dashes the sand
(giving plush).
Takeofftheshoesandthepantsandthetowelandrun
Into the water.
Composed
the evening of March 23, 2019
