At East Rock Park

Photo Credit: Shruti Sinha

I often feel like falling

upward. Like I need

to hang my hands up,

hold hard rock, and heave

against my gravity

forever,

ever tense, taut, trembling

muscles spent. I find

my way to some unending climb,

confront the cliff face,

pray against the rain,

fight grace, and crave

the higher ground.

But not today.

Today I let my body lay

along the lowlands

like a thing,

like flotsam,

follow no plans, feel

the flowers with my fingers,

linger down

into the river-

swallowed sunset

bit by bit. Nothing,

no place more

glorious than nowhere

to get.

An outdoor short poem written by Stephanie Ruth Roston BFA