Lives Intertwined

Between the scraggly pine trees, shadows stretch with whispered invitation. I have the urge to take off my shoes and enter, knowing instinctively that the bed of pine needles will absorb the sound of my footsteps. Knowing subconsciously how cool it will be. Anticipating the smell of sap, the scrape of branches on my arms. Despite standing in Texas on this side of the millennium, I stare into the flicker of light and dark and see Home – West Virginia...