Friday, July 22

at the cabin

An older time, of simpler pleasures. Pleasures which are the most fulfilling, which phones and computers and televisions often trample. Using our senses for real life. For reading books, with their papery scent. For licking ice cream and catching turtles and watching Queen Anne's Lace unfurl their confetti hats. Catching a glimpse of a fox in a field, feeling the tug tap tap of the bass on the line, seeing the water beads roll silkily and tidily off the loon's back. I can still see them now.

Thursday, July 21

The days, each longer than a summer

My childhood memories of this lake overlapping with their childhoods now. Seeing the roots set. How small we all are, and how big is everything.