····in the hollow—the crow’s breath
There was ice in the puddle this morning, even as the sun was a haze of steam in the trees. Tonight is cool again. I already think about what I’ll write tomorrow, how small the world is but also how large. I could spend the rest of my life on a single road, never inquire beyond the wind in the trees, and live as though the world were at peace. Maybe someday I’ll build my cabin in the field and live like that.
185 May 11th 2016 | bottlecap