coffee wood mornings where the air smelled like smoke.
when you woke up, if you looked out the windows and stared past the trees, you could see the lake.
cold like swallows of ice water. metal cups in your hand.
late when we arrived, late when we left.
dancing fast in a filled music hall with strangers we'd never see again. my feet were tangled trying to hoedown.
an hour in the woods does a soul good.
small places like home nearer than before.
let's go back.
photo of me by kiley
canon eos 3, kodak portra 800
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