To up and leave for a whispered promise— brushing against unwritten stone. I moan. Just a sound to fill the hollow. I don’t mean to sound so monotone. But I left behind all I’ve ever known. Do I land like a feather, fallen from my flock? Gently, tenderly graciously welcoming. Or like the snap of an alligator’s jaw— No looking back, swallowing every bitter memory marching through the swamp with bruised and scraped knees? At first, there’s excitement in unfamiliarity: a snaring