I remember the drive into Carbondale in April.
The effusive flowers clouding around the roadside, the low purple vegetation in the unplanted fields.
The sun broke through a sudden torrent of rain, tried to hydroplane us off the road.

I was walking home with a broken skin of clouds across the night sky, and there were star magnolia along the road.
Looking up felt like falling into a high ceiling.
There was a thick, heavy warm air in the dark, filled with the smell of flowers and petroleum.
The wind was no longer cold, but just pushed against me like a current in water.

This is what I wanted.

Do you leave the apple tree and look back around the WOODS?