I am learning that there is nothing
in life to hold on to,
except the welcome of wet washed rocks
on a high-honed peak
and the greeting of softened ochre
on horizons, sun-smeared.
Lick of flame replying to my breath,
in dark sutured by stars
and in pools seldom seen,
the slap and grip of breath-chasing swims,
these things I know I can come back to
when all else falls away.