There are 139 steps. That's about one hundred more than i need. I go up. I go down. Under heavy branches that smell like Christmas. And alternately through a crispness that blanches. I am a child. I am a sinner. I have aged. There's wind at the top. Below only sea. These are my steps.
Ochre Idyls
Poems, Haiku/Tanka, Short Fictions