Minnesota

I was going to leave this place

I came to with reasons

Wounded and laid barren.

I looked out at the old tree

From my window thinking

Its our last season together

And it felt sad to me, uncomplete.

In that instant, something

About this place and time

Quietly spoke up

“Are you sure you’re done here.”

And in that moment some

Resistance to being owned

By place, rocked me and

I felt like a Minnesotan

And wanted to be nice.

How to talk about

A feeling washing

Over you entering

Inside your breathe

And suddenly

There was you.