DOWN THE ROAD

There is little air in the words
circling around me all the time—
some that drift through my head, some that
well up from my chest, some that dribble
out of my fingers. I guess that happens
when you don’t realize what has
built up around you, or what has appeared
while you were out.

The hills outside my window
are still there, with maybe only
a hiking trail or two
to indicate they’ve been touched by human life,
but they may as well be states away, or in some part
of the past that won’t return again
for decades.

(November 8, 2007)