Rain

A long drawn out Autumn falls flat and rain cascades from a gray sky. The garden has been put to bed, the horse fence fixed, the hay covered, the greenhouse dismantled, the wood cut and stacked. Each piece of wood could hold a memory--good, bad, or indifferent, haunting and hallow or happy and hypnotic. I'll burn them in the wood stove, and watch the flames reach for the stars. I reach for you in my dreams, perhaps we dance, perhaps we talk, I hope we hug. 

Blue Wings