74 Days Ago

it has been a life spent
staring up at big branches
and leaves of startling swaggering

it is a life spent under tall grasses
and the muscle ache of parting,
always only peering
between eyelashes.

the exhaustion is scaffolded by
the sitting still.
if it moved and had life,
it would be a thing untired.

it is not a thing in motion
that needs rest;
it is that a thing not moving is
not exhausted.