I will fold these small burnings
to store in my pockets for later. Evenings spent
hiking solo, creating
careful logs of my gratitudes—building block
lists, writing hand cramping,
exhausting a single
black pen—hungry
to centralize my energy, to see
paths through to their dry ends.
Amber summer, landscape
where I reconfigured
prayers—not as one-way whispers,
but ripples, gold
momentum gaining
so that what manifests is not myself
at an epicenter,
but as one.
