the light was still on

Four flights down from the small sleeping room

behind the dormer window, 

thinking back on what just happened.
A chance encounter; warm and friendly; ultimately electric.
Stepping out into the dark, early morning air;
a feeling of connection.

 

Crossing Whitehead he stopped and turned,
looked up at the room where he'd just been. 

Outside the window, the light was still on;
the dark room still breathing quietly behind it.
He stood there; it might have been a minute,
it could have been eternity. 

Time didn't matter, the light was still on.

The light had spilled in through the window
and across the bed,

casting a warm golden glow on their wrestling flesh.

A small smile. . .

Turning a heel toward home,
the night's memories walked with him.

The light was still on.

An hour later, folded back in his own bed
and drifting into sleep,

the light was still on.

the 45th annual old island days art festival

There's not really a lot to say here, the artwork speaks
for itself.
Just an easy afternoon in Old Town; greeting old artist friends, meeting new artist friends, shooting a boatload of colorful pictures to share with you here and back home at the studio before the rains came.