Hills

The long day slides downward over empty rooms
where I rest, finally, feeling my bones
shake looser inside my flesh,
feeling my heart,
small and tight as you left it.

I’ve traveled the long trail
out from the interior
to these sunburned hills,
brown below an unforgiving blue.

These hills,
where once our boots crushed the wild sage
to scent the air,
where once our white dreams flew,
pale cities, pale menageries
vaporous and gleaming in aurora.

Copyright Kay Winter

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