In the truck
Trees and rocks fly by in the window;
They call to me;
Their branches telling me to come home,
To climb higher, higher into the mountains,
To lose myself in a crevice,
To keep myself hidden;
As I look out the window
My face is reflected back at me,
Hair a mess,
Face a ghost,
Branches overwhelming me,
My heart choking on its own rhythm;
I want to lose myself in them,
Get caught up in the music of the leaves
Rustling in the wind,
The music of the birds singing into the sky;
But for now I must wait;
Wait for the mountains to end,
And the truck to come to a stop,
And my heart to return to its true home.