A packed car,

save for that big blue cooler,

and two (yes two) bassoons,

an oboe, an English horn, and a fiddle.

A house that seems empty.

Goodbyes.

Garden gazes.

Tears here and there.

A wool socks with sandals kind of day.

Sipping tea and hoping for sleep.

Last night’s dreams were of ripe fruit trees,

none of which belonged together,

but were, nonetheless,

and abundant to boot.

Something to wonder about.

Tonight… Who knows?

Until tomorrow, friends…