Amalie@kua

I wish I could sit high in the sky,

Alone within the nothing,

Yet everyone in the everything

Laid out before me.

I could watch light be cast upon the world,

I hate the outdoors

The February sleet turns to March mud 

A murky pallet of miserable grays and viscous browns

As I climb

Looking from a plane, glowing

streets, like spiraling

spider webs

knitted on the elder plains,

out of hope, out of pride.

Crossings of the intertwined veins 

slipping out of eyesight

through windows

and out back doors

in the dark of night

with only the stars as witnesses.

slipping through thick forests

carrying sweet-smelling woven baskets

Snowboarders, wheres your snow?