Some Mornings

I wake each morning to

release the excess of

being alive

Jump around

punch the sky

sweat my bones

until empty

 

Some mornings, like this

when the air feels so much

cleaner than me

I want to remain empty

vulnerable to the elements

free of the weight of

my body

 

Some mornings

there is nothing to do but walk

I step into the cold

legs bare

accepting the pin pricks

of sudden fall

I walk until a lady tells me

I should find some pants

I think

I dont know how

to cover myself up

to shut myself off from

the elements

immediate

 

I think

shes crazy

 

It occurs to me

Ive walked as far

as I already had

and I wonder why

I should have to do it

again

— A.O. Gerber

A.O. is a writer, musician and composer from Southern Oregon currently moonlighting as a Vermonter. You can follow her work and listen to her music here.

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