One Thin Line

I knelt on the damp soil, my knees
dimpling black loam made tender
by winter rain. Lacy green hemlock

waved on the dunes, red stems alluding
to a lethal power. This day it was my
foe to banish. Gloved fingers burrowed,

sought unseeing, with gentle tugs
eased the pale taproots out. Hours
passed. Piles of conquered plants

multiplied. One lone ladybug hiked
across a tangle of stems, a cheerful
red button contrasting the gunmetal

sky. A pause. Resting, I observed
her journey, noting that she traipsed,
tumbled on her back, legs waving,

for every completed step forward.
Chill wind scoured my mind. I
looked up. A red kite strained

against a taut and quivering tether.
The soul, connected by one thin
line to the body. A gust of wind

strong enough can snap it. Where it
lands I cannot guess. Where do
snowy plover feathers end their

journey after dancing across the
ocean? Sighing, I turned my mind
back to the truth of the earth.

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