I think of an artery.
A delicate tubular passageway
for red liquid to travel.
Go little cells,
to the outer reaches
Far away to fingers and toes.
Circulate.
Warm the digits
Then return
I think of red cells, white cells,
Swept along
With a rhythm
Under pressure
Because of a loyal heart.
Boomarang around my limbs.
Pump that blood!
Stroke
like a dragon boat crew on this cool silver morning.
Pace steady
Like a cross country runner
Left
Right.
On and on and on.
Even in my sleep.
Lynette Hensley
2020