When we were dancing that first time.
Surrounded by old photographs, and new ones. Mules, a porch, and three fledglings, in a reclaimed frame. There were colored lights, uncrossed arms, and exceptional uncertainty. Not fleeting or temporary.
Undebatable. Like an address, or a name.
Or the way an E tripped into an M. In 1965, and again in 1969.
Dancing, yes, but not on some dance floor- we postponed that business. In favor of umbrellas. Just in case. Gotta keep one eye on the horizon. Or something like that.
Only lately did it occur to me that there is more than one horizon. Seems important.
Let’s just build a fire,
You can drink your warm red wine.