Oh, and a poem. I am posting a poem I've written, because in the past week I've written 24 pages (for a class) on what I think about poetry.

Something different for me

but i loved it still


We made a game of not talking in the woods one Sunday afternoon. Just the two of us, we ran through the meadow. I felt funny making signs to show you what I thought, but I could tell it was comfortable for you to act. In the yard of an abandoned cabin, we found an old swing, the chain stung our hands with cold. I showed you by putting my open palm on your cheek. It was curious to me, everything without words, so mostly I was quiet. We came to an old concrete shed, full of corrugated metal planks. We heaved them down the crumbling stairs, intent on the work. Each counting one, two, three, lift, with our eyes. On the path above, I heard some people wondering who was down at the shed on their property. Because we weren’t speaking, I didn’t say anything to warn you, just watched you blowing on the fire you were trying to start in the shelter we’d built.