Tree Line

Some days
I need to run
To the tree line

Lay palms on old snow,
Crunch young granite under foot,
Caress rough bark, and
Sift pine duff
Through my fingers.
 
Listen for the lizard’s footsteps,
The work of bees, and
Hollow rhythms the woodpecker knocks
On bleached bones of the forest.

To the north
Gaze wide on the desert.
To the south
Hide the suburbs beneath the clouds.

Leave the world below,
To fend for itself.