miles above

Each dusk I hear a shrill flutter and watch her luft or branch to wait for a mate. Last night one hundred geese flew over in the wrong direction as if they were flying home. *i do not know the direction of their journey * i can not feel their home*** The balance of home is inside of them miles above me. It doesn’t feel like winter is in over, or even here yet. Two halos encapsulate thefullmoon. Our limiting beliefs. Our fears. You are more than that.