10.10.2007

through the fields

It wasn't exactly warm.

No.

It was chilly.

There was a breeze,

but

the sun.

It was shining brightly.

We set out:

tennis shoes,

sweatshirts,

shorts.

Walking.

Gravel pathways through the harvested fields,

golden,

browned,

waiting for the winter.

We walked for miles

past the white house,

around the long bend.

We walked into dreams and fears,

finding beauty in the chipped and fading.

Fingers and toes numbed.

The sun,

slumped against a reddening sky.

We walked through the fields.

Together.

Apart.

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