Don Pedro

a drought fell over the land. 5 years & the beds completely dried up. they discovered her bottom of don pedro lake. determined she was over 900 years old. touching into her bones the mage deciphered her life and winsome spirit... golden eyes. she was unknown otherwise 

   #katyamills

Volcano, CA

your son taught you how 

to take a photo remotely 

by your watch. we made a totem pole with our heads

the phone banded to a dogwood sapling

inland from a rocky 

beach

they called off the search 

a month later. all they found were our belongings

circling a carved trunk of cedar 

now hollowed into a home

for squirrels

#katyamills

telling

telling was the night upon the day long and hot and humid until the end

the night and
     like a shot it shut
                         you down

i took you to the spot
where all the revelry
was muted

distant

the interplay of
telling you how i
truly felt without
a word

draw near the dark melody

out toward the center of the lake, august summer nights, the water dead calm. the atmosphere uninterrupted, both surface and air. they could not see one another and could no longer hear all the commotion on every shore. a loon gets lonely, too.

and there despair was born. made it's way up the long and slender throats. the necks pointed to the sky, and curves of beak parted, opening throats to air. the saddest melody filled the lonely night with sound. echoes in every cove.

we were young and holding hands. snuck out with flashlights to walk the banks to the painted bridge. hidden in the deepest shadows of the canopy, on a new moon night. drawn together out on the island, waiting. long winter a distant memory.

listen... the aching pain of solitude is calling! before i only heard your sweet voice. so small we are... touching your soft warm palm with mine... feeling your breath on my face... i may never feel so close to you again.