The fabric of daybreak was flowing, animate, an intimate breath over our awakening world. Warm sunlight bathed her body in bronze, burning brown freckles between bare blades and turning her hair into red fire waterfalls that spilled down Egyptian cotton sheets. How such mornings were held together in the calm, quiet-still of perfect peace seemed ivory tower; too star reachy... but a breeze rippled our crème curtains and when her emerald eyes unlidded, I saw a sly smile as memory blossomed. The days we lived were dandelion wish, in antiquated myths, metrical... repetitive. First light’s blush was a brushstroke thick with royal purple ink and oil. Embellishment became precognition, an exigent quest for a fortuitous sign. I swore we met in a flash, a vision with an eerie, mysterious design. Then the dogwood's budding reef rustled and we waded in its intoxicant. A mockingbird's melodious madness spun us into hypnotized crescendo. What was became irrelevant, passed up and blacked out. everything was opening. Time was a spark in emptiness, a daisy chain, dominoes driving. We engaged the outline with simple presence; nothing more.
