Marla perked up like a snowbird,
greeting the vast horizon with intent
contemplating her surroundings
setting her sights on possibility.
She slowly moved, unwillingly,
to procrastination, deeper into
her unfolding defiance.
If you need me, I am her,
as if she held a choice.
I am a world unto myself,
repeated in her close put ambivalence.
Even the tree etched bark reminded
the woodpecker of her duties.
Again her thoughts turned to accomplishment,
as the snow turned a flaming orange.
“I ‘m a slow moving concurrence.”
announcing out loud, over
her distain for acceptance.
If I fail,
I fail for all the right reasons.
I refuse to be a pillow to
rest your insecurity.
She slowly turned to face her
target, buried in downy comforter,
so full of misunderstanding,
so buried in denial.