She Walks Ahead of Me

She walks ahead of me, motioning for me to keep up. She is happy and excited and wants to show me what she’s found. I love the way she gets stoked by the little things most of us overlook, like chanterelle mushrooms, wolf spiders, and the various shades of wildflowers which come and go quickly each spring. Today she’s found a sky-blue beach rock hiding in a bed of weeds. She doesn’t want to disturb it. Its soft hue and silky-smooth surface would tempt some to boost it and display it on a shelf at home but not this naturist. She would never dream of disturbing such a work of art or removing it from its home. She is kind and has vowed to leave tiny footprints here on the earth.

When she shows me what she’s found, she asks, “Isn’t it beautiful?” Its color reminds me of the color of her eyes. I agree it’s exquisite. She tells me it would make a lovely necklace, but she’s glad it’s tucked away and safe. I watch as she smiles, breathes in, and stores away this memory for a rainy day.

I can’t describe the way I feel when I am with her. She is happy when I tag along, and watching her enjoy life so makes me glad we have found each other.


I was walking
when a strong wind rushed in from nowhere and shoved me backward,
like I’d offended it.
It seemed to know I’m in a hurry to see you,
to kiss you,
to be with you.
The wind blows where it wills;
you hear it,
but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going.
Push fiercely, gusty stranger.
You won’t stop me.
Like dogs straining against leather leashes pulling caretakers in tow,
I am determined
to make my way to you.

High You Are

Walking in the woods listening to What So Not’s, “High You Are,” makes me hope you will come for me. “Take me now so I can wake up and drift away. And I don’t care how high you are, don’t wake me ’til we arrive” (Hyde, Styles-Richards, Emerson, Streten). Arrive who knows where. The only thing that matters is we’re together.

The Sound of It

My Dearest,

I just like the sound of it.

You and me…

Enjoying a gentle walk on a cool fall afternoon; then returning home to carve the face of a jack-o’-lantern into a pumpkin you grew in your garden.

You and me…

Sitting on the tailgate of a Dodge Ram laughing while enjoying cucumber sandwiches, carrots, and ice-cold lemonade.

You and me…

Listening to your playlist and wondering why yours is always better than mine.

I just like the sound of it.

You and me…

Sitting in a swing, pushing off the porch floor with bare toes and soaring through the air like children at the park.

You and me…

Lying on a blanket looking up at the night sky wondering what we should call the stars while making wishes we feel sure will come true.

You and me…

Holding hands and kissing at the close of a never-been-better kind of day.

I just like the sound it, the sound of thoughts I have about you.



– Random thoughts listening to Trap Land by Yellow Claw

Pierce and Dispel

Hi Friend,

In his book, The New Man, Thomas Merton writes: “In the old days, on Easter night, the Russian peasants used to carry the blessed fire home from church. The light would scatter and travel in all directions through the darkness, and the desolation of the night would be pierced and dispelled as lamps came on in the windows of the farmhouses, one by one.”

In a similar way, we hope Scattered Love Letters will travel in all directions piercing and dispelling the darkness, loneliness and hostility that seem to be crowding the day.

We hope you enjoy reading these letters and we thank you for submitting many of them yourselves. As we share our hearts with each other may good portions – packed down, firmly shaken, and overflowing – fall into our laps and lives.

Loving You,