« Reply #55658 on: May 19, 2008, 09:28 AM »
« Last Edit: May 19, 2008, 09:34 AM by tpe »
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As the moon lingers a moment over the bitterroots, before its descent into the invisible, my mind is filled with song. I find I am humming softly, not to the music, but something else, some place else, a place remembered; a field of grass where no one seemed to have been except a deer, and the memory is strengthened by the feeling of you, dancing in my awkward arms.............
