And the navy scarf embroidered with summer. Tucked around my neck, tucked around my heart. The heat kicks on after months of idle wait. Winter winks, but first, a flush of rosy joy for leafy trails and long drags of pine.
The pages long for the honesty of envelopes. A reader, a writer; postage paid to go home. Dearest, I cannot believe summer is gone. / We should rent that cabin in the aching woods; I heard the river sings lullabies and the fireplace heats soup. / The cooler weather is a relief, but one can't help but feel the pending granite of winter. / Well, I must end before the evidence of my gravity spills all over this brave paper. / Please be well; it is my fondest wish. / Love, J.
The cardinals are chatty despite the on-again-off-again down pour. Weather, birds, letters and dreams. All of these words shaping a boundary I'd like to remove. And not last night but the night before, did you see the 4 a.m. moon bearing down on the horizon? The thumbnail slice glowed just enough to hint at the fullness balancing in its cup. Hung rightly in the east, I thought for sure I could hold him in my two hands.
a shy light –
just enough coverage
to reveal it all