Spatterings From My Fountain Pen

It was hot and I dreamed of log cabins and fly-fishing somewhere cool,

I prayed for friends, young and old, with broken bodies and tired hearts,

I dreamed fitful dreams

And continue to hope that the fire that threatens our home and oh so many others across this country would disappear,

I read Hemingway and thought that he is much like a good meal of fresh bread with butter and meat pie and red wine…completely substantial without any needed frills,

I laughed with reckless abandon and feasted greedily on pictures of beautiful things until I thought I might burst,

I planned gifts of braided and twisted delights for friends and started a Christmas list,

And now I am drinking a glass of wine that looks like sunshine and wishing each and every one of you,

A good night.

xo xo Liz