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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.




Yesterday I felt the restlessness in my soul.
That rootless, anxious feeling when your feet never touch the ground
and your bones feel off, disjointed, floating about
Like they will get more work done without you.

I wanted to throw on my red cape like Vivan
And move with the wind
Hunched under a storm cloud
Voice masked by the rainfall.

To run with the breeze that flows in my bones like marrow.

Today I lost myself in the trees on the high bluffs.
Wading waist deep through the sword ferns
Moss applied like a salve.

The trees lean in
Muting my pounding foot-beats
Trunks gave way to open grasses
Where the crickets purr and whistle

Gulls replace the chickadees
My footsteps lost in the sand.
My toes know my knees, know my spine, know my shoulders,
All pumping in time to my heart.

I feel whole