words (night time)

THERE is something exhilarating about Summer evenings, night time, dusk, etc.  Moody clouds, slow sunsets, bursts of colors that are every day different, raging storms etc.  When the big trees sway in the wind I'm always taken back to time spent with KJ and his words which shimmer into a reality before me with an evanescent unreal realness: big trees really sway, really swing and bob and lean their big heads and hats and mass of mossy hair over the dusky tarmac black roads; the slick roads of July rain or August dew (early mornings, day-break, also sometimes hold these kinds of moments of recollection) -- retrospectively the words and sentences and images are better than the reality of that first experience, possibly - tho does that truly matter now? now that I see before me what I want to see & feel what I want to feel with relation to those words and images and symbols of his that are now in some shape or form mine -- now I am the owner of those images, now I can kindle, rekindle, reignite and reimpose those images back to life into my reality and content myself with some wild hepcatty KJ dream of big swaying evergreen trees; roaring sea shores; howling winds and driving rain that spits and really hammers away at sunday afternoon window-panes, making me contemplate and look back with glee and smile and go "oh boy oh boy!"