Well, it is this and this is peaceable. A curve, a paved path in the distance, ash-colored in banks of candlelit snow. Fences fall, new tracks emerge. Little tufts of cloud drift up where the moon is, sometimes.
You write, a lovely voice in which confident laughter is inferred. On this end, much pacing, muddy quartz left by the bridge, and a lavender-colored mushroom I'd dream if it wasn't so real. We'll get back to bells and lanterns soon enough. Oh, and cats curling up near a terra cotta urn filled with lemongrass.
I just want to go caroling with you. He informed the nurse it was every religion or none. Chili peppers, overripe bananas. One returns to a familiar challenge and senses at last a way to let it rest.
You walked me past the antique farm tools into a shadowy dell and we kissed for maybe an hour, standing still, holding hands, not talking. Sunlight - even at the end of the day - attends. Some say it's the Lord, others are smart enough to keep their opinions to themselves. The vase fell, shattered, and Roman coinage slipped between the floorboards.
So it's all about money then? Or sleighs maybe, the horses splendid in the moonlight. We are elegant when in the early dawn we pray quietly that others might be blessed. I love you so much, I do, right now I love you.