misha's house

one time in the wrong season we went to vermont. 
the lake was shrinking at that time of year, 
the leaves were so green you could never
believe they’d want to change. 
we went up to the house, the owner is your
ex girlfriend’s father and he is hospitable. 
he talks with his hands. 
in the summer the nights are cold in vermont. 
the green leaves are laughing as the green plaid sweater
covers my toes and my elbows hug the thin sleeping bag. 
it keeps me cool
we lay in the lean-to that one day I will build. 
I thought of the vanishing lake and orange trees while
your elbow would find my feet to acknowledge
the gardens we planted on rooftops
and the skylines we saw on summits. 
we spoke to angels
but I am not sure how to know which religion is right. 
you said we dream of what scares us which scares me:
I dream of holding mint in my hands,
I dream of soft water and shrinking fires. 
I dream of beautiful things.