Follow the Lighted Promenade

Trip: An Outlander, a Thousand Towns. (8/15) I met Jeremy on a Sunday, at a small park miles into the starry darkness; I left for Michigan, alone, on a Sunday night – there is no greater freedom than going somewhere alone on a Sunday night. The fall crept in from the north, and peered from the crimsoning ridges – our fire was low and filled with steam and wet hissing; I slept well, and woke late, to bright sun and happy children laughing. (8/16) We hiked on trails flanked by hedges (thoughts of vineyards) and descended shady ravines and climbed grassy hills and passed across an old cracked deserted parking lot (thoughts of the ends of the worlds) then ate lunch then a long afternoon, watching clouds dance, reading (a ghost story), a nap, the curious sensation of time’s slowdown then a shower (thoughts of travel), wet spider’s webs then a hiking trip, over a bridge onto an

Is the same moon that I'm seeing The one that throws your shadow down? Is the same air that I'm breathing The air that fills your fields with silver sound? I know that I've not seen you Or felt your lips' caress Since a thousand moons have sunk down Into a thousand beds But do you recall The broken winds of fall? The hills that stretched forever Beneath their blazing pall? Working on a song in London, Ontario. The night is cold and feels like fall. The lights have just come on. I'm going to get dinner then amble downtown... Last night I dreamt I knelt alone On the margain of a glowing river My breath danced out in plumes of cold The autumn moon was just a sliver A great sadness filled your eyes And swam to me on whispering winds And descended down full fathom five Until I woke alone again I know that you were with me In the space before the dawn Your flitting fingers shivered Then were gone Hey, do you recall The dripping p