fall falling footsteps

Fifteen lines on country roads. Fifteen hearts entangled. Turn a corner, down the lane, a darkness overtakes us. Through the brush and tottered trees, through the frozen Autumn eve, breath like cotton, hands curled close, gingerly, we follow.

Fifteen paces over hill. Fifteen miles upon us. Fifteen years we've lived until another night of burning light, of scorching heat, of feigned delight. Another moon leads us to stand around the burning embers. Your face distorted, features sharp, then fading with the flick of dawn.

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J. Tillman - "First Born" from Vacilando Territory Blues from Western Vinyl on Vimeo.