jitters before traveling sound like a key turning in its door
left and right and you know, one way you are locked in;
the other opens you to all. now here we are.
my fingertips aching for mountains, lakes,
places only we know that go on memorising you:
evenings with orion’s teeth glimmering,
days of scaled-back hillsides so wildly hungry at its calm.
it all went just like that,
and we remain a little unhappy
as usually in love.