Winter

Some days I ice skate like an olympian, my hair trailing far behind and purposely skidding my skates in one direction to stop, making a snow pile of coolness.

Some days the lake feels so vast like an ocean, no edges; I can skate with no brakes. The faster I go, the further behind my hair, the more air I under my skates.

Some days when the lake is endless and the momentum effortless, I don’t know which lake it is, what country I’m in, my name, my mother’s name, my birthday.

Some days I evaporate into the cool air, remembering the atoms in the air are the same as the ones my skin is made of.

Following

The floating dock goes along with all the waves, the ones from the wind and the ones from the boats. If you don’t let your body follow the dock following the waves following the wind and the boats, you will fall.

When I close my eyes, my body is still following the dock following the waves from the wind and the waves from the boats and the waves of my breath, following the air through the leaves of the trees in the wind.

I trust my body following my breath from the trees and the wind in the waves off the boats and the sky. I don’t need to see it to feel it to trust that I know it.