Dear Jessie, As the moon lingers a moment over the Bitterroot's, before its descent into the invisible, my mind is filled with song. I find I am humming, softly, not to the music, but to something else, some place else. A place remembered. A field of grass where no one seemed to have been, except the deer, and the memory is strengthened by the feeling of you, dancing in my awkward arms. Norman
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that is so beautiful
Thank you!!
I think so, too.
I’m an expert stealer of other people’s amazing work:)
Lis
well, it still is beautiful… so keep up the good work
Thank you so much*:))