Wide Open Spaces

by Jocelyn Olum


We climb up the mountain outside town
In the late afternoon.

Just the two of us
Watching the sunset paint the town red for a few moments,
And then settle imperceptibly into darkness behind the opposite hill.

“Beautiful,” you say, laughing, your eyes on mine.
I smile and duck my head, like I’m supposed to.

It is beautiful. There’s no denying that, the hills spotted liberally with cattle
The fog rolling over the undulating green landscape
The gentle ache in my legs from climbing and my old tennis shoes covered in fine brown dust

And then there’s you.
Sweaty, triumphant, and utterly familiar;
You’re standing on the peak beside me 
The echoes of your presence cascading down into the valleys and resounding
Back into the sky above us
Thick and beautiful and so all-encompassing it claims even the dirt under my feet for its very own. 


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Jocelyn Olum is a student and a writer from Boston, Massachusetts. Her poetry has been featured in Red Eft Review and is forthcoming in Eunoia Review and Blue Marble Review.