Foggy Mountain Drive
Twilight becomes daylight, from damp fields - fog of never here nor there, ghostly future impressions, spiderwebs holding onto hopeful promises of distant conversations; It's shimmering expectation, a romanticized past that beats on as we drive down the side of winding roads: To see there is nothing to see; to expect there is nothing to expect - like the wet, mirrored leaves, love is just a reflection letting go in all directions