12.22.2015

Cold winds come again.

Fog mist falling.

Wet radiance obscure the hills.

Now, that deep dream of you rises. The heat and light searing the bones, the heart blown.

We walked these trails when the sunlight shown. Then you ran. You remembered. You came back. 

I have never forgotten.

Oh night, come again. Blow hard down the hills under oak caress old madrone.