R. M. Dolin, September 27, 2021
It’s going to rain, no big deal for most, but special still the same. The smell of a desperate desert, the way evaporating air draws you into your hoodie consoled by careful sips of hot coffee. I built a second floor patio to remind me of Paris. . . It overlooks the mountains where I watch clouds heavy with worry wrap their way toward me. I integrate with the solitude, causing me to reflect on my journey to right now. . . on how humble it is to watch wind, accepting I’ll never see her, and she’ll never understand what it means to be me. . .
Watching a summer storm roll over the Jemez mountains from my writer’s patio.
