Belting from mountaintops,
echoing across the valley,
I broke the sky
with my bellowing ache.
What started as delicately simple
as the weep of chilled snowfall
rose to the sobbing
drum of thunderstorms
and gurgled in riverbeds’ overflow,
collecting mudded debris,
etching every stone,
and ended
in the squawk of seagulls,
the surge of the ocean,
and the hiss of
disseminating sea foam.
All Rights Reserved: Elizabeth Bohlander Wilson
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