This is what being alive feels like

I was going somewhere

(it doesn’t matter where)

when the wind called me.

It blew around my face,

(no matter which way I turned)

and said loudly,

come.

And I, being young,

being foolish,

being alive,

followed.

This is what being young is,

I thought.

This is what being foolish means.

This is what being alive feels like.

And the rain dripped lullabies

while I listened to the wind

cool as fall against my summer skin.

The sun was shaded benediction,

the mountains fogged blessings under broad rays

green as life and distant with it.

I climbed, and climbed, and watched, and thought

this is what being alive feels like.

no human speech to slow the wind,

just cloud and rain and sky above

(and sweat and rock and grass below)

I hold out my tongue to taste the wind.

It tastes like summer, like water, like warmth.

It tastes like rain and blue and sunlight.

And I thought,

This is what being alive feels like.