June 4

Last night between the pond and river: looking out over the breathlessly calm, slate black waters. You pointing out all that the river mirrored: a small island’s reflection, a tree’s reflection atop it, the reflections of clouds, the orange lights on the shore, the quiet, balmy sky that would later pour rain. Us silently watching it for a while. Me feeling blessed to stand next to you, sharing a moment of calm and beauty. Later the crickets and toads giving pulse to the bogs and woods. A few fireflies navigating the smoky balm, appearing out of my thoughts the moment after I mention my love of fireflies. The odor of flowers and trees intoxicating, bringing visions of pinkness in the night. We seperate on the lip of the river and I float across the bridge, to where 10 people circle a fire outside the haunted house on the hill