Morning Walk

Morning Walk
by Joyce Sutphen

The air is fresh this morning—
and I am walking fast.

Hey listen! My bones are happy
inside my skin; my fingers

are snapping so I add
a step or two—a skip

step, step, and step aside.
I can almost forget

that I have what I have,

but I never do. I notice

the wind shaking hands

with the branches; the sky

threading blue through my

eyes. This is how I’d like

you to remember me: from

the inside out; back when

my heart was folded

so neatly under my ribs.