Written at camp last night, watching a thunderstorm.
Tonight there is a square dance in town at the Opera House. Will I go? Maybe, but it won't be easy to leave the simple comfort of this place. There will be music, laughing, stomping feet, whirling bodies in the old building beside the river in this small isolated town. It will be a good time.
Here, on this porch there will be the rushing of the river, the steady drip from leaves and eaves. There will be flitting birds, shy rabbits, golden light in the kitchen, maybe a hummingbird at the feeder. It will be a good time.
If you had to choose, what would you do?
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