by Shelly Krehbiel
Somewhere over Iowa I wonder
what jumping would be, dropping from sunlight
into wind, letting my hair twist tight
On Agate Beach two dogs chased each other,
etching tracks the tides took back like laughter
dissolving into sound. Ocean takes
I tried dancing once, even though I was afraid
to step on her feet. Falling gets easier,
I know that no one will catch me
isn’t that brilliant?
Those dogs. Wet tracks.