Contours

I gently trace my fingers along
the edges of
where the mountain meets
the tall baby blue above

My arms wave softly in the air
as I follow the ridge like a maestro
speaking language with a soundless caress

I’m learning the mountains language
reading the jagged rough like braille

I know you with my eyes closed
in the darkness
to which I imagine there –

how I can smooth your edges

© Photo by Alison Scarpulla

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