Comments about Kay Gaiser
You move through me like the wind through aspen.
I arch my back, to ride a jump that seems too high until it rises.
When my breath catches, it is crisp, like winter,
Yet encompasses me like a womb.
As my river flows, you ride it, stroking each angry current until it subsides.
Even my storms seem to amuse you, grinning through each tempest I throw your way.
When you speak, it is like thunder during a spring storm, promising that good things will grow.
While I restlessly pace within my cell, I only think of the lightning that shortly follows.
My limbs are...