in the firelight
 upstate New York rekindled
 right here in C-O
 
 friends are made this way–
 through shared childhoods, face time–
 nothing like today
 
 (we shopped small markets
 and lived for farm stand bargains
 and were just. real.)
 
 and there’s an absence
 between that self and this one.
 i’m trying to fill.
 
 perhaps she sees it.
 (as i know my husband does)
 and that’s why i’m here.
 
 with embers flailing
 kindling September grass
 waiting for the flame.