Threshold of Breath
When the Earth Speaks First
"Every path leans forward, waiting to see if you will follow."
The earth exhales,
and the trees lean closer,
their branches whispering
like elders at a secret gate.
Gravel shivers—
each stone a throat
humming beneath my step,
reminding me the ground is not still,
only patient.
The wind does not pass—
it presses its palm to my chest,
steady, insistent,
as though to say: wait—
the way ahead is watching.
Even the sky has thinned,
its light drawn sharp,
a blade laid quietly
across the path.
I know the road’s intent:
not to carry me,
but to release me.
About the Creator
Rebecca A Hyde Gonzales
I love to write. I have a deep love for words and language; a budding philologist (a late bloomer according to my father). I have been fascinated with the construction of sentences and how meaning is derived from the order of words.
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