The coolness sets in quickly as the sun descends into Lake Howard. The water rests flat like glass. We lean into our third lap, past the old colonial house with the faded white shutters and foil windows, catching the light like clouded glass, gawping at the pink sky, light and dark like watermelons. I hear the twang of music and muddled guffawing from across the lake, Old Man Frank’s is packed…
“I’m sorry you couldn’t find me. I have been in the woods. I put myself there because I couldn’t be good. I have been running with foxes and running with crows and I have found myself a home where no one goes.”
— Florence Welch, from “Useless Magic: Lyrics & Poetry,” published c. 2018
