Ajanta Judd 

In the gully the trees remember, their bark a script of survival, ridges and seams carrying the imprints of seasons, of hands that touched, of people who walked these paths before us, their breath woven into sap and shadow, their presence never gone, only changed.

I am only satisfied when it burns cold When the brittle edge of the chill Kisses heat’s searing mouth To the west, to the east, the north an

From a 2020, 24 hour Poetry Marathon. I wrote one poem each hour for 24 hours straight. Theme: 'Even when you are lost, the land knows you'.

Scrunching through coarse sand on a morning dense with fog, there is no separation between ocean and sky. Thick dank air mixes with salt...