Wanderlust

Stretching fields have become too familiar

Give me mountains

Give me oceans

Give me forests so wide they roll like green foam to the curve in the horizon

I want to hear the swampbird’s song in the early morning

And lay down to stare at a sky so open I feel I’ll tumble right off the earth

I want to see trees the size of buildings, and buildings made from trees

To feel the push and cold of concrete all around me

And to see the Mother’s concrete, hot and cracked under the sun

I need to watch the grasses roll in the breeze

I need to watch the waves crash against the cliffs

I need the wind to wrap me tightly and release its hold on my heart