Bread Crumbs

I was thinking about
leaving a written trail
of bread crumbs for
someone to find. A list
of items, memoirs,
notes and photographs
that explained my
actions. Then I remembered,
my anonymous blog is
a trail of bread crumbs.

My crumbs drop
behind me as I walk
into the leaves
the crunch swish of
yellow red brown crush
against my bare feet

Heightened awareness of
sound is making me
so tired of being awake
for such long periods

If I were truly awake I
might not notice the
mournful breeze that whispered
into my jacket, forcing me
to wish for buttons and another
layer to clothe my thin
frame, a precursor to the season
of white cold stark ice
particles that are necessary
for the trees, grass and
flowers to lie dormant underground.

Insomnia would be an accurate
word to describe this
had I tried to sleep after the
four a m terrors. Shaking
doorknobs, screaming baby,
frozen bedrooms, negative
energy is circling around me
again. Smudge, smudge,
smudge, smudge the sage that
grew under watchful eyes,
Ring, ring, ring, ring
the brass bell purchased for
this purpose alone.

She described it as a cool
breeze on her neck
I describe it as the feeling
of my skin crawling on
my scalp at four twenty nine
a m in the morning.

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