there’s just something about soil that makes me plunge my arms right in straight to my elbows my fingers tickling worms brushing roots thumbing over stones the warm sun on the back of my neck. but my arms are cold from the earth’s caress its steady embrace as i turn…

one morning i decided to go for a walk on a path less traveled. i stepped around jagged stones and ducked under wayward branches my sneakers squelching under fresh mud following along this trail to the unknown. at first i jumped at every sound a twig snapping a bush rustling…

when they make their way toward me at seat 32A it is the old woman who smiles at me first her wrinkled eyes crinkling under her mask the old man sits next to me and she in the aisle and we don’t speak they’re sweet, easy airplane row neighbors closed…