jennifer barber
        —after Rigging the Wind

It is no wave that carries
her out to sea, for the shore
knows its kind, the cool breeze
blowing over the sand —how hot is the sand?—
she feels with her fingers—how cold is the water?—
but not every surface heats up the same way.
She knows where the wind
comes from, what makes
the air move.
It starts with the sun.

But there is no shore,
there is no sea.

She binds
the pieces of this landscape
with a touch
her words have,
heavy
with light.

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Copyright © 2022 Alan Botsford All rights reserved
from Possessions
Cyberwit
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission