Just a little bit colder.

No appetite.

Too many bags.

I realize that the end of the invasion says, “Vineyard tours.” Oh, I did not wear the right shoes for this.

Crows and a hawk. Soil talk. Vistas blanked out by the morning’s fog.

No baseball caps; cowboy hats are acceptable.

Everyone wants a plan.

A perfect pink peony.

Numinosity.

“To be an adult is not just to have a big body; it’s to know that I’m accountable for what’s spilling into the world through me.”