There are places
one wants to go
and these places
they can be seen
apart
in the distance
draped in misty cloud breath
with silver tendrils
and
pink cheeks
some days
though
it is as if
these places are
at hand
brushing the
tips
of fingers
making them itch
with
now
and this desire
to go
and
to be
walk in tandem
a pulling
and
a grounding
together
enough so
to make
one walk
in circles
I suppose
but the
turning
around and on and in of each other
weaves patterns of
beauty
which are beheld
only in the looking back
beauty is the vapor trail
of having once
walked
forward
--sweetening the world with poetry words--
