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…

Loose petals and a strong wind, the minutes to the hours grown into days are those, fluttering without a number but in the same ways, lost, forever moving along forever. What is so enriching about day breaks and the passage of the mid-morning sun if its shadows shape-shift behind me, with doubt and anxiety of…