there is a pleasure in the pathless woods;

there is a rapture on the lonely shore;

there is a society, where none intrudes;
by the sea, and music in it's roar;
I love not man less, but nature more...

dear jesse,
as the moon lingers a moment over the bitterroots, before its decent into the invisible, my mind is filled with song. I find I am humming softly; not to the music, but to something else; someplace else; a place remembered; a field of grass where no one seemed to have been; except a deer; and the memory is strengthened by the feeling of you, dancing in my awkward arms.

cottonwood pass, co

i spent the night on top of a mountain
and woke up to snow on my eyelashes.