On the Threshold

I pulled over to watch thunderheads build over foothills laced with lupine, dandelions and horses.
I thought about taking home the shift boss, the one with the Celtic cross

tattoed on the inside of his left forearm. Irish, scripted down the back of his left tricep. Peace, scrolled down the right. Tasted the possibility while thunderheads spread,

a double-iced mocha and a mile swim making me brave and half in love with my body, like hawk circling the doorstep of the thunderstorm.

Kiara Koenig