I always miss you– last fall, back from the mountains you'd left San Francisco now I'm going north again as you go south. I sit by a fire at the ocean. How many times I've hitchhiked away; the same pack on my back. Rain patters on the rhododendron cloud sweeps in from the sea over sand dunes and stoopt lodgepole pine. Thinking of the years since we parted. last week I dreamed of you– buying a bag of groceries for Hatch. Gary Snyder Sutton Lake, Oregon, 16 June 1954