I miss you like hot summer nights.
The rolling hills filled with humidity and the flashes of lighting bugs, the buzzes of moths on the porch, the clamor of crickets in the field.

I think of you like early morning dew.
How cold my feet felt on the grass, covered in chill and dampness, a memory of midnight heat, how the mist rises from it, the slightest haze of cover.

I hold onto you like Virginia creeper.
Lifting myself onto the foundation of your strength, a strength that supports my own, becomes my own, inseparable and tied by roots of our nature.

I will return to you like the middle of June.
On dark early summer nights I’ll find my way back, to scoop up the dirt once again like precious jewels, to place into my chest next to my heartstrings, keeping the holler of the living voices that brought me to this place, living in one body full of so much spirit and many souls.