it's august
I will wade out
Till my thighs are steeped
In burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
And leap into the ripe air
Alive with closed eyes
To dash against darkness
we're in the dog days of summer 2005, but looking through pictures made me remember how much i've missed my year at stolaf, especially the long winter nights. listening to vespertine doesn't help, either. *sigh* at least i know that no year back on the hill could ever compare to the first