Last fall, I shared a meal with an old Texan. I had gone out with some friends and ran into him at a hole-in-the-wall diner at the tail-end of my night. By the time the city had quieted, we found ourselves exchanging the kinds of truths that seem to surface only between strangers. I have…

September sunset, blues and pinks spill like secrets, the sky learns to blush. A jacket half-zipped, the breeze smells of burnt sugar, shadows stretch too long. Geese carve the night air, times no one can decipher, yet we understand.

I bought a Celosiaon sale at the market,a pot of purple flames,pink whispers at the roots. I didn’t know how to care for it.But I knew I needed somethingto care for me. I set it on the sillin the sunlit roomAnd it rosehead high,drinking it in. We all should bloom like thatShoulders tall as roots,feet…