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Amber Evans Aug 2018
Pale legs sprawl out;
untangling and stretching,
as I absorb the
Montana air.

Isolated, we sit,
under the big


White clouds float
through a sea of

The same shade of
orange as those sugary
push-up's my father would
shove down my

Gas station sweets
to make me
me forgive

I shake the feeling
of comparisons—
they never did me
any good.

Instead, I lie down
and allow you
to touch my
tense body.

Softly, you
reach over, muffling
words of beauty and

I do not flinch.

I flash a smile
and focus on

The mountains in
West Virginia
rolled; they flowed,
so graciously

There was never a
road that was not

I've never
seen a rugged

Snow-capped and

Not until Montana.

Until this moment,
I, too, have
tried to

Living the same ways,
in which I experienced,
Mother Nature.

Going through the
with no purpose.

No passion.

The fear of becoming
an abrasive,
overbearing woman
urged me to

To slide through
life, barely

Never climbing
for more,
to discover the
true beauty in
a bit
I wanted to write about love but instead I wrote about strength. Hope that's okay.
H Jun 2018
the river winding down below
the rushing sounds of rapids flow

while high above the trees I stand
to breathe the wonders of this land

vast pines outstretching toward the sky
give shelter to the fowl that fly

the covered rocks and earth that stay
stuck forever in their place

for years on end this place has been
untouched by man, untouched by sin

to some it may seem boring, though
to be in such a place alone

hidden in hills, surrounded by stone
but, for me,
it's coming home
b for short Oct 2016
Sweat cools
on the tops of our shoulders.
The sun drops  
and the beat follows.
A moment of blackness first,
followed by
a rock candy colored infinity.
It dances, without apology
and blankets me in light.
In the spaces between
spilled beer and green smoke,
time is a foreign language
that no one cares to learn.
© Bitsy Sanders, October 2016
a wildfire Jun 2016
mother earth,
we have stolen so much from you- too much.
we have taken your trees, your mountain tops,
your moss covered rocks, your rivers and streams.
i know the tears you shed- i shed them too (for my home),
i know how desperate you are to repair- to rebuild,
and i wish that i could lay my hands upon you.
i wish that i could heal you all by myself.
west virginia, my heart breaks for you.

— The End —