Dance.

I make like I’m going to scream.

The breeze absorbs the sound

only I am left with the din I created.

Soft feet tip-toe down a wooden hall.

Watching after the very small.

I feel the world shake,

A breaking of the crusty cuts of earth

cities fashion.

Installations of constellation to navigate my trip.

Dip the ink with feathered tip.

Quips about each other’s deliverance

I’m under mother nature’s influence.