running my hand along the curved railing of the staircase
my feet follow one another without worry
my fingers want only to be running
and as i put both feet on the floor
I'm set against that moving sky
the movement in winter
the cold air on skin
and heat, which is momentary
a blanket of warmth
the heartbeat in the palm
the tingle of words
a soft forest seeking sunlight
the rainfall keeps us here.