Alive

sycamore treeThis is who I am:
woman who drives with yellow dog
over roads of dirt,
going fast over the sip of creek water.

Who is brown hills,
dry sharp shrubs,
muddy river water,
smooth worn stones on sand.

Strong as red rock cliff,
soft as grass,
uncertain as rain clouds,
brave as birdsong.

Turn right on the highway
back to town.
Don’t lose this . . .
Don’t lose this . . .

Elise Stuart

One thought on “Alive

  1. sumyanna June 10, 2015 / 1:32 pm

    Beautiful poem. I love your description.

    Like

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