Nostalgic Eight - Victor, Montana

"Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty." - Jenny Han, It's Not Summer Without You

Golden, Missoula, Montana

Aspen leaves and sunlight married; like so many golden coins, scattered…


If the Sun Were A Tree

If the sun were a tree
Its leaves would be this shining color
And they would drop
Over the toes of my boots
Ankle deep.
When I step
There would be the sound
Of light breaking.
— Tom Hennen