while hiking the big hill by Annie Powell Stone

“can you touch sky yet?” he asks from behind

“no,” I report back

(I stretch up anyway and it feels delicious)

“I can't”

--- and I don't want to,

don't want to ripple the blue

or catch the red-tailed hawk 

whose feathers are spread like fingers 

reaching divots into the sherbert sky

---

Annie Powell Stone (she/her) is an organized hippie, a social introvert, and a fan of peanut butter toast. Poetry has come back to her after many years away and has absolutely saved her sanity during lockdown. She lives on the ancestral land of the Piscataway people in Baltimore City, MD with her husband and two kiddos. Read more of her poetry on Instagram @anniepowellstone