We pass on the street and our eyes meet. For a moment time is suspended. Do I know you? We think in passing. Never to stop and discover together the song of the meadowlark with the lemon yellow breast perched on a fence post in the middle of nowhere. Strains of Bob Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks" filters into memory along with your face. One I cannot forget. One I do not wish to forget, ever. For should we pass on the street, I will touch your arm, and ask your name.
"Do I know you?"
You look puzzled, then the smile comes. "Not yet."
"Then let me."
"Coffee?"
"Love to."
There are plenty of meadowlarks and long summer days to spend, listening, touching and....the alarm goes off. Morning birds are already singing. And all I can think of is when I will dream of you again.
Note: I took this photo at sunset driving behind an army convoy en route from Rapid City and just after a major storm.
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