Rain at Dusk

We’re staying in two friends’ guests house in the Berkshires this week. Just a handful of buildings nestled in a bowl in the hills, isolated and insulated. Dead quiet, no cell service. In the morning, wisps of low-hanging clouds drift over the crest of the bowl, and steam rises off the pond.

Tonight I walked the perimeter of the fields in my bare feet as a thunderstorm rolled in.