standing, thigh high in snow,
in unison, we turned, mother and I,
like two tuning forks leaned in toward vibration
every deer in earshot could hear our steps and hear them stop
"now listen," she said, an invitation, "remember this."
city nights could never give me this, crisp cool bliss of nature's quiet
every cell of my body sip-sipped pine-aired nothingness, piece O' silence
About the Creator
Jen Parkhill “JP”
Jen Parkhill “JP”, a first generation Cuban-American artist, pet parent, writer, filmmaker, actor, friend, graduate of the Tisch School of the Arts, NYU, and proud member of the LGBTQIA+ community.
Hurling through time.
@jenparkhill
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