Indian Summer

I walked alone, your heart in mine, and daydreamed.

The hike, the hike was rough, like you; tough on me, and I loved it.

Wide-open, nothing expected, nothing filtered, wild like the valley below me.

Warm winds teased my hair into knots, then changed direction.

The seasons had changed, like our moods when we are together.

*Heated scents of burnt pine and ash filled the air akin to thin smoke.

My breath came in gasps, forced out past scar tissue and jagged, painful spasms.

An Indian Summer held the Naneum Canyon in vibrant shades of fall splendor.
Reds, yellows, greys, and some new greens painted the landscape.

Shadows contrasted with colors; leaves danced, grasses swayed, trees popped; and hills, they rolled down and out of sight.

I dreamed of showing this place to you, this place

where I am.


*Naneum Canyon burned three summers ago. I do need to continue and edit this as descriptions come into my mind.