i high-fived a friend yesterday
the first physical contact my body has had in over 4 months
a convergence of longings
celebration found within a moment
the ache of nostalgia gasping for life
my fingertips keep reaching out
crawling along the backbone of a passing wind
the determined legs of a spider
extending
begging
hoping for solid ground
what do you long for, little spider,
the skin on my forearms sing out
weave me into your story
i will weave you into mine
i dream of hidden landscapes
that come alive in the cover of night
the detritus of leaves and pungent soil
i long for the cadence my legs emit
tracing the mysteries of the in-between
i yearn to hear the earth gurgling on the morning dew
to taste the sharpness of the sun’s rays across my back
i want to hear the staccato of a leaf’s breath
as my body lowers down to rest upon its chest
my fingertips retract
dreaming
curling into a simple fist
retracting their hunger for the skin of another
hibernation is not forever
little spider, can you promise me this?
