Dacha. Home.

Wishing I was there with Her,
with a straw hat,
on my knees in the dirt,
smelling the ripening grapes,
inspecting each and every plant for potential and progress,
hearing the goats beg for more grape leaves,
stealing warm peaches off trees and gobbling them down before the juice hits my shirt,
stopping to survey where and what everyone is doing,
and just feeling so quiet inside.