Bring me to the edge of the woods and walk with me in the rain-soaked morning, as alone we can gather to seek one another, and bring the charge of the day quietly into our rubber boots, our trousers tucked in the tops, and the rain kept firmly in its pools on the ground.
A hand, your hand in mine, as I listen to the rock of your conversation, and watch the fine casts of pink smoke burst from your mouth and try to pick that part of you that tells the difference of the day; Does it speak? Move with grace? Ignore those feelings that come over me?
Or carefully hold within its being, that essence of you, that makes, the all and sun of you.
Ralph Peck
Photography by Bonnie Adamson
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