burning man
Freshwater breeze whispering
an overheard conversation about
the seagulls and loons
intruding another cloudless day.
Dry heat waving, casting shadows
of pure imagination. Where we go
to collect our thoughts when the world
gets in our way and we pivot.
Life is full of pivots, sunburns that linger,
blistering to spite the tan. Where we chase
groggy mornings with flickering nights
basking in the crackle, killing time
with recollections and stories we repeat.
To build and perform, burning man
on a forgotten beach that stretches beyond
our comprehension, building castles in the sand.
Arden Felker