Cold front blew. Winter arrived. Small, fine snow scratched to window glass. Press of wind in strike of bursts and blow sounded deep in bass and echoed in a feeling through the walls of the home.
He looked through window, night still full, sound his strongest sense.
He lit a candle on table face and read by its light in surround of the darkness knowing that he would not sleep again.
Spirit would not settle, restless in wander-lusts.
Unfocused in his reading, mind wandered away into thought-beckons.
He dreamt to summer, open skies, to spread of pasture tall and green, weight of brome seeded heads heavy and gold and blew as shadow-casts in bend and wave with the winds.
He dreamt the heat. He dreamt the light, her beneath cloud-tinted brim that shaded her face and left sunlight bright and breaking over open, freckled shoulders.
Swoon of a wind, swoon of a lust, seed-head shadows in wave-blown ripple of scene as bodies fell upon bed of brome; cloud-tinted hat cast to side, she the greater image-dream, as he took her strong under vast of lover’s blue.
Another wind, another swoon, love-shudder in the heat; her gentleness in after-smile as she stared into him—seeing—then looked away, light and levitous laugh, as she fixed to sight of cloud-tint upon the grass, no such true amongst the vast of blue. No clouds amongst the vast, on one another they projected willed mind-dreams.
Serenity after, they remained in lie and upward gaze upon the heaven-blue.
He longed for all again: the warmth, the light, beauty and sight—to love her strong in the vast and free.