I Was Walking

I was walking

In a ravine 

My feet were hot with sharp stones

penetrating the soles of my feet. 

The sky held a single cloud, not billowy. Still.

And so I wandered along a path, narrow and steep.

I am a grown woman.

I am a child.

I am a solo traveler.

I can hear 

the voice of reason.

But I reason

no reason to stop.

I daydream.

Dreams made under June Apple trees, as 

yellowjackets flit across 

dried crumbles of dust.

My feet move.

My dream floats.

There is no end.

This is the journey.

I take stock.