Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock