island

it slips off your tongue. blossoming, a thousand dandelions. it stands alone, but is part of hundreds. it feels delicate, soft, safe. smells like dirt after rain. it is strong an unclenched muscle, a toe wiggling. it is a dog’s unconscious breaths, playing across your face. it is a bird’s wings, rising and falling, a gentle flap that carries you without effort. a movement, a moment that is.