For Stephanie Chapman Pope

In the meadow last night after sunset a warm breeze blew against my skin.  I felt you then.  At the campfire with friends  and in the house your spirit moved around whirling in the heat raising to the sky, with the heat from the fire and feelings of love and camraderie that surrounded. Live oak clad hills shilloueted against a palate of darkenss and, hummingbirds' pinprick holes. Below a steely black river flows towards its peaceful destination.