Looking back

He was hard to read, though steadily so,
Like an old Cyrillic text
Or that erratic wind come to tickle your sails.

The road was a hard one, but
I couldn’t give up.
The payoff would be large, I told myself.
I never had the slightest doubt.

I kept at it, kept discovering his sweet wonders.

I kept them in my heart, too,
Like the blood itself that courses through it,
Always moving
Never stationary—
And impossible to catch.

About Russ Wollman

My feet are finally in the water, and I want to keep them there.
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