Ground
Jen Schalliol
a hill raises herself outside my window
pushing herself up with her arms
from below, the ground from where she draws
her energy, the support for each arch—
momentum
the moment you forget,
you fall,
or cease
to fill
with grace.
remind, self,
of the sky, vaulting carefully,
of hills raised smooth
and trees pointed precise,
and of everything that stretches
beneath
and matters.
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