misses my toes on her moss
misses my legs in her salt sea
misses my bottom on her stone seats
misses my belly in her breeze
misses my heart on her mountaintop
misses my face in her rain and fern and flower.
Perhaps she isn't broken or bleeding,
angry or threatening. Perhaps, simply,
She misses me, -
misses my wild, open being.
misses my quiet company.
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