Work Text:
I want to run barefoot through the trees on a pine-needle carpeted island
My laughter will echo through the trunks and spin out across the lake to be swallowed by the hillsides as the barefeet of
Chase
Pit-patter behind me.
I want to know the freedom of childhood now in a body that feels like mine
I want it to feel like flying
Playing tag with an osprey.
I want to set up a canvas tent on a not-quite-flat enough piece of ground,
String a ridgeline from trees that will pretty much work and bury guy lines in a spot that has just few enough rocks for the pegs to slip,
Smoothly
Into their homes in the Earth.
And there is a perfect spot for a cook-fire.
And the spring is 32 steps away and cool and fresh as it gurgles into my little tin kettle.
And whilst the trees weren't perfect for my ridgeline they are absolutely right for a little washing line for my wet things to dry after swimming -
Smoke-dried and sun-beat and with the winds blowing hope into the billowing pockets
Which are big enough to catch it now.
I want to run through the trees.
My hands will brush the bark and my newly borne skin will learn the textures of protection.
And I will swim with osprey and fly with fish and at the end of the day I will be buried happily with the beetles and the pine-needles, at peace with the tent-pegs and the worms.
And my finally-fitting clothes will dry on the line by my cook-fire.
And the stream will gurgle on past my kettle.
And I will still run barefoot through the trees, shouting and laughing to the far shore-line,
As we play chase atop the needle-carpet,
And play tag with the osprey.