i ran down from the big old house to the river tonight.  ran almost to exhaustion, which felt really good.  when i come back east, i'm always struck with differences i had forgotten.  the moist air.  the greenness of everything.  the trees large enough to picnic 10 families. 
 
this is a night with no setting sideways sun, instead a cloudy dusk that settles slowly.  standing next to the river, shoes on wet earth,  i imagine this light to be old with history, old like the houses on main street that smell wooden and rich.  the river is beautiful and i want to talk to it, to tell it how i really feel, and to listen to its' stories from back long ago.
 
the birds zip numerous above a sea of corn stalks, and the quiet here is pure, covered only by a blanket of cricket songs.  i remember basking this morning in the love of my two year old niece, who i see so much of myself in.  we ate blueberries and took "walks" around the cars in the driveway, and giggled with toes up on the couch in anticipation of my sister in law with the vacuum cleaner.  she cried when we left, and i wished i lived closer.