our holiday hide-out

Writings from the end of August:
We're on holiday. And we're alright! 
We live in my parent's little cabin by the lake. 
Outside I rest my eyes on fields of gold.
Like the singer. I rest my eyes on fields of barley.
We light fires in the evenings. 
We wake when the sun is up, but it's still cold.
My soul is resting.