✨ A great pale balloon is filling in a dark field, and in a little while it will lift — and you will lift with it. 🌄
Tonight we rise slowly over the harvest country in the last hour before dawn. The ground lets go without a sound, and the fields lower themselves away beneath you — mist pooled in the hollows like pale water, hedgerows drawing their old crooked boundaries, round bales standing in a scattered line. You drift east over a village still asleep, past an orchard heavy with unpicked fruit, out along a river lying under its own weather. A single window burns yellow on a far bank. Birds pass below you. And somewhere near the end you sit down on the woven floor, pull a blanket someone folded to your chin, and let the burner breathe its slow gold light over your closed eyes while the fields go on waking without you 🌙
Includes mentions of: Hot air balloon 🎈 · Harvest fields 🌾 · Morning mist 🌫️ · A sleeping village 🏘️ · An orchard at night 🍎 · A river before dawn 🌊 · Woodsmoke 🔥 · Birds in flight 🕊️ · Lantern-gold light ✨ · Wool blanket 🧶 · Open sky 🌌 · Being carried 🫧
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