end of June

Because in June (and really always) a muddy bike ride into the woods can be a Pride March of one, can be us in love with this whole damn world, can be bodies of water and bodies in water, those who bravely came before and those in a future wilder then our wildest dreams, the taking and giving of care and crumbs, can be the magic soaked up from dewy ferns and lonely sunsets, finding dragon flies and catching breath, the hills we climb and the rest we need along the way, can be all the ways we arrive and depart- together and alone. Queerness is not a single star or constellation, it is the sky.
Because in June (and really always) a muddy bike ride into the woods can be a Pride March of one, can be us in love with this whole damn world, can be bodies of water and bodies in water, those who bravely came before and those in a future wilder then our wildest dreams, the taking and giving of care and crumbs, can be the magic soaked up from dewy ferns and lonely sunsets, finding dragon flies and catching breath, the hills we climb and the rest we need along the way, can be all the ways we arrive and depart- together and alone. Queerness is not a single star or constellation, it is the sky.

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