When he was small, he had always dreamed of being an astronaut. Unfortunately, he was hopeless at astrophysics, but that had not stopped him from becoming the best geneticist at NASA.
The day he
...
[+]
tinge to the air—purple-
scented, fennel fronds shaking green as parties
filigreed
as when a child I used to draw
mermaid and merman's hair.
A storm blowing
through, wind in the tunnel of the throat
and rushing
from the mouth. A story caw-cawing from the branches.
The pines wave back and forth, thrash
the sky. Soft spruce needle whisks, egg-froth of clouds.
To be of the storm, to enter it.
To be entirely air.