A jagged black and blue horizon
divides my mind at dawn—between
the ethereal above and the solid
ground we’re planted on—each
day the line impressed unless
blessed with dark storm clouds
eclipsing the difference, clinging
to peaks and leaking torrents
I vaguely remember as cleansing
all states of being. The hills rise
to a broken edge on this divide
branded in my mind for life.
drycrikjournal 