The three of us smell like woodsmoke tonight.
The squash soup tasted like sun warmed afternoons, mosquitoes buzzing.
We spoke of grief, and sadness, and hope, and revolution.
We sang songs with soft voices.
The babies played in the darkness like it was light, peek-a-boo, open the door, shut the door, and offered us their small hands to kiss.
it was a small thing. really, just an evening around the fire,
But it made me feel immensely better,
laughing with others like myself.
Thank you for listening,
I love you,
Please forgive me.