::
till a whistling wind takes a puffy blow
calling me out from reverie, overly in awe
from the damp twigs, leaves, and stones
resting along with little curls of water kissing my toes
tossing cap and tote hanging on shoulders
icy tone sprints up my system as i go deeper
scoping water that only slips in the gaps
a stroll restores zest out of haywire real fast.
—alirhio
