I'll Never be a Hiker

I'll never be a hiker,

I'd just take off down the trail

To  feel my body hot, breathing

To feel the pain of fatigue

Running though my legs

Arteries of experience

Bundled into a day

And fifty miles.

You can't ask the hummingbird

To slow it's dance among the flowers

It is incapable of using its feet

For anything but perching.

Should it need to move 

just two inches

It must fly,

Fifty flaps a second.

I need to feel the hard ground

As it leaps up into my legs,

My legs, bleeding into it:

They're clouds

Letting loose a rain storm

The rain, answering a call 

To create growth.

Bon Iver in the background

Inspiration from a world

That spins right into 

and through me.

In a moment as strong

As a winter storm,

I can't stop writing translations

Of emotion from the world

In a leather journal

As you read me,

You too, will translate

Your world coming alive

Through my words.