between the refreezing night sounds,

crisp and starlit,

we hear you dreaming

of vivid blue skies and mountaintop tundra.

Ptarmigan and hare

crouch in bearberry and birch.

One of us lopes across lichen bright rocks,

pauses, sniffs the air,

and drops behind the ridge,

shifting the dream like a rope.


we track near,

toe pads pressing into

wet spring snow,

moving in a forest

of shared knowing.

When you wake to name our trail


the sun will break over the mountains.

The vivid place inside you

will stir,


looping our

imprints in synchrony,

joining in

the timeless, tended journey

of coiled souls.

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