Melted by the heat of nascency, I am rendered once again a child. Goose skin, swelling, and sweltering longing mark a moment in which one life expires and another begins. Truth to dream, dream to fleeting fancy— retrospective clarity shakes my branches until all the leaves and lives are piled below, waiting for a gust of wind to repurpose them.
Trading days for nights and sleep for sounds, dreams become truths and breath becomes wind that moves my skin to a new understanding of what it means to be alive. So I lay, in bed, alone, and daydream until daybreak brings a physical dream-state.
Rays of daylight pound rooftop snowpiles into veins whose courses cascade down the panes of my windows. The light casts the shadows of water across my body, flushing, cleansing, without touching, far from my skin.