After solstice every day more light to miss you in more time for shadows wherever we turn. What if I'd called with a beam of before? Mount Lemmon where we sat on a pine log talking toward some truth with a weight of mothers behind us the world ahead a swirl of risks we felt ready to jump into. That time you were craving stars you walked up into the Rincons without a tent. The clouds moved and those distant white blessings said yes to every wish. And you came back out with wilder hair and a hunger you had every reason to believe you would always be able to feed. Luminarias line a path it's too late to walk. But whenever you said my name I heard a history of friendship in your voice calling me back to my most natural self. I would give anything to duck back into November now and sound out the syllables that root you. I'd bring a message from your guitar, it misses the press of your song. And I would sidle in wherever I found you emptying of light, lift your head, stroke out worry or hold on beside you, saying We'll double our grip, make darkness be the first to let go.