I come home to myself
In the sharp switchbacks
and the wreckage of deadfall
and winter debris
bare for now,
sure to be hidden
in the burst of early spring.
The floodplain spreads out,
the roots of the trees pulled up
from the bare earth, ancient limbs.
Old growth forest, the map reads.
I run up up up and the ridge curves
back to the lines of the river.
I can see it bright green with snowmelt.
You can’t keep running from here.
Breath and blood rushing.
A slender path leaks between the trees.
Melissa Rubins is an Akron native now living in (and loving) the Dayton area. She loves spending time with her family, exploring the Miami Valley and beyond, and searching out good food and strong coffee.