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By chris Date: 2006 Nov 25 Comment on this Work [[2006.11.25.00.34.13287]] |
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Tonight I stand outside and hear our windbells and feel the humidity on the breeze and think how snow must be dropping up in the mountains, in the night - at least above ten thousand feet - because in the glow of our Mexican Christmas lights anything seems possible. And I take consolation in you sleeping as I write these words - warm and unconscious and beautiful like a subalpine wildflower that has escaped the killing frosts somehow by finding shelter among the fractured granite or just knowing enough to bloom facing into the sun. You will never have to run. So I will kiss your cheek, brush the hair from your eyes just once, and join you there. |