Close Call

Almost daily

I have been coming to rest

in forests of lodge pole pines

to stand and sway in cold creeks

sun myself upon lichen-covered boulders

Until the buzz of horse flies

turns low like hungry men

on a neighbor’s porch

that late summer evening

Restlessness is what

I caught

deep in my own bones

I keep trying to shake it loose,

rattling like a dog’s body

after a close call

Like the men

I am greedy too

But for simple rippling lake water

to eye a feast

of Lupine flowers

lay down with

their safe bodies

and belong

to no one.