StealingBread

In this room where time doesn't pass the sun doesn't mean a thing continual darkness seeping through the thin clothI touch your skin Your thoughts, your words a string through time causing the edges of the dark to shimmer and waveI'm almost awakeWhen I see that sunrise I can't imagine now how beautiful When I see it I will put the dark in an envelope I will hold it to my breast until it permeates my beingand only then can I wake and walk into the sun

The summer sun was different then we had ever felt it before. It feels almost overpowering at twelve 12, glaring down from directly above, staining your skin a tea color and causing me to sweat.  Now, a few hour after day break there is still a distinct scent of last night hanging in the air. It mixes with the dew and the crisp morning smell of renewal. The sunshine is not weak, but gentle and we can enjoy it now like we haven't thought to before. I'm sure our neighbors think we're hoodlums, or vagrants laying on the lawn at eight in morning. I can imagine the couple across the street reminiscing about their own college life and how we mos...

My hand is jerked hard. I wince and wonder if my arm is still in it's socket. Then I wonder where I am and where I'm going? Last night Benjamin, Flynn, Wyatt and I had set up camp. The summer air was sweet with pollen and nectar. We laid our sleeping bags out in a circle and put the bags and packs in the middle. It wasn't yet light out, which didn't alarm me. We often woke before the sunrise in order to catch fish and hunt games.