Because there’s nothing else
to be done, I step outside
breathe into the horizon.
Because today there’s so little
to hold onto, I count
the pylons crossing my eye line
trace the wires between them,
patchworked fields and trees,
white windmills on the farthest rise.
Because after all I’m here,
I breathe in the wide expanse
feel my body realign
tissue and bone, all the precious
nothing, everything I can set my heart
on, the back and forth of air
a rope braided between being.
From: Startling, New Writng North, 2022