I dig open rooms
    without any furniture,
    clean walls without
    any frames.

I dig the fragrance of books,
    rubber, and burning leaves.

I dig the lullaby of footsteps,
    whispering trees, cars passing,
    and clacking hooves.

I dig the way water moves.

I dig towering clouds, floating
    mountains on the horizon,
    and tiger lilies burning bright
    against an agonizing blue.

I dig unsweetened tea,
    steaming dark roast, and a
    breathtaking IPA.

I dig the grain of an
    acoustic guitar and
    the squeak of fingers
    shifting frets.

I dig forgetting the things
    that come next.

A glutton for simple sensations,
sitting drenched in a well
of naked experience –
the wild way takes me
through oceans of contact.

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