Worth It

From a thought after light rain.

Photo by Elliot Simons on Unsplash

Just at the edge of morning
was the departure of rain.
With a storm shrinking
in the distance and melting 
into the dying night's horizon,
blueberry fog smothers the city.
A bruised blue. Dark and rotting 
like a deathwish offered by a witch
in a forest that sets off every alarm
bell in your stomach. Still I dare
to wonder: within a blind space
would I find an open hand
or an outstretched claw?
One is an invitation
to dance. Another,
an advantage
to tear into
my back.
Which
is which?
Life provides
endless surprise
to anyone willing
and stagnation in stasis
to everyone hesitant 
to opportunity.
So why not?
I have plenty of scars
on my back so what's another?
I have all the time to learn 
yet another dance 
so let's 
trace steps.

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