flowers in a bottle

BC sent me an email: 

Got some flowers for you today, fresh off the mountains

They dance in darkness as if the wind is blowing. The way the light reflects reminds me of the eyes of the antelope running across the sage lands that dusts the neck of the Simpson Range. 

My guess is BC didn't bothering to stop to photograph them or check to see if the pictures turned out. I have no doubt that they were beautiful in their moment. Simple & wild, never threatening to be seen in the frosty glass of a florist's shop. Desert weeds, the only thing stupid enough to be growing in my garden this year. A flower that chances life by rain alone. 

And something about all that reminds him of me. 

 His photos of the lake they fished are easy and clear. 

Peaceful.

 He caught 3 fish and he called home late to say good-night to everyone. 
I sent him photos back but he never responded.

I didn't fall asleep until well after 2 am. I had a dream that the bank of wild land smoke resting on the mountains had come down into the valley. It pressed on the mid-line fence like a wall of dirty snow. 

I had a dream that I just gave up & walked quietly away.