Thunder's coming.

Today began & concludes with the same white flower. This morning it gave air to the inspiration & this evening we shared a drink.

From the flower we migrate down, bench to bench where I found myself fifty five minutes in. It must be a Lake Okanogan swim.

Onto Yellow Lake where we became good friends. Back and fourth we traded pace, in and out of minds guarded space.

Down hillside & onto the feet. Thirty Eight? That my kind of . . .

See you tomorrow morning white flower.

Rest well.