there is a nostalgia
in the waiting storm
of the cool, morning humidity
the creek is a chorus
as it flows over the mossy rocks
and the birds squawk in the trees

there is a complex romance
in the sweat
embracing love without purpose
to allow the hollowing
to consume you
there is a contentedness, here
an abandonment of the fear
of the leaving
and loneliness of the future

so i baptize myself
in the chilling water
and i pray; i hope