I know where the ocean meets
the sand is not the actual
edge of the world, but I like to
pretend it is sometimes.
Not in a flat earth
kind of way, but like if I
stand on my toes and
lean into the wind, maybe
I can tip myself over the curve
and see beyond all of this,
if only for a moment.
I don’t want the wolves to go away.
I know they are real,
important animals that contribute
greatly to our ecosystem, but, also,
they are the perfect backdrop
for all of our unknowns. How do we tell
each other fairy tales
without them? How do we
feel safe in our beds when night is
absent their howls to the moon?
How do we keep our fear
alive without letting it
wipe them from this
earth?
Someone on Instagram said
that tonight’s is a cold full moon.
No commas.
This was, someone else comments,
a broken year. Stacked atop another, I think.
But I’m trying
not to think like that. I’m trying
to look at all the rain
as water to drink, not a
metaphor for the sadness
we seem to be collecting.
I’m trying to look at the ever
white/gray sky like the
graceful back of a floating swan,
not my failures accumulating
like inventory in the aisles of a
pawn shop. It’s hard to look at
the sky like that, but not impossible.
Not when I give myself a moment
to stand here on the edge of a world
that’s still home to wolves,
at the dawn of this
new year.