Remember the firefly that began to zip and zoom just below the treeline that day? You had the strange idea to follow it. And then I could feel the heat of your body as our insect guide led us through the woods. Soon we were at an…

CUT FRUIT Lighter than the breeze; butterfly wings. Scent on a shelf, vibrant their color. Fir faced, little moonbeam in the day.  Like a fog they consume your sight. Hush! Concrete the secret, damn fool! Dock Your Self. Canteen the coffee when hunting the butterfly.

That picture on the shelf: sipping some coffee from a canteen, sitting on the dock wrapped in fir. The hush of the fog rolls over the damn. A moonbeam lights a concrete paradise into a dim blur of peace. We were young.