The Solo Hike
In the depths of the charcoal night
Only those with wings
Whiskers, tails, and such things
Can hear the faint footsteps
Of the one,
Idol
Wanderer
Who gazes at the moon like others
Gaze at their lovers
Who stops to soak in the unfurling fiddlehead ferns
Like those who devour biscuits laden with butter
Only in memory,
Does the idol one touch a soul beyond herself
For the loneliness that almost killed her
No longer feels like death.
~Julia Klyus