Pylon

She leans against a pylon in the empty train stop. Her hair is blowing in the breeze and the sounds of the rustling leaves fills her head. The season is changing.

She is not yet where she hoped to be in this new season. She is no where near where she wanted to be. Actually, she hasn’t tried to change at all.

A plane flies overhead and she can feel the rumble of the engine vibrating in her feet. She wants to run but she is paralyzed. Her feet are detached from her brain. Her toes are rooted through the cement beneath her feet, dug deep underground amongst the dirt, amongst the bugs.

A blown leaf catches on her foot. She looks down and moves her feet apart. She has been a barrier for herself. She doesn’t want to block anyone or anything else. The leaf loses grip and floats away with the wind, to continue its destiny.

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