laying tracks

Sun shines off rails
Grass crisp to golden
And I imagine the clang from cow bells
Across the dusty path on some Italian mountain top
My body is the vessel I use bring myself into work in the morning
Back through the door at night
But I am the cool shadows
Rainbows cast through the air that sits on the edge of leaves
Those colors in my eyes
Breathing in the sun
The urge to dance in public
I am the same in any language
In any place
Its still me
Seeing sleeping bears in the hills
Willing to climb all the way to the very top
Just to slide down

- Christine