June 15 by The Running Son
Ɨhe bʆack paƗᗁ
these great trees will fuse our souls.
hold me. cold nights take me whole.
old and emboldened trunks protect
from frost. i lost boldness
like you said I would. so hold me up,
and let this dim light outline all
promises to trust. here in the darkness,
this dark distance, this slow path to us.
by Jim Aldrich
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.