In a middle winter of middle life, they found romance that brought their bloom. In a world of white, cold, and still, they opened into alive.
Like first-time lovers, young and new, they loved in a blindness of bliss and easy ecstasies.
Mornings and days, eves and nights—whenever alone in the Spirit—they gave, they receive in oneness of intimacies love-passion in bond between: upon and in and through in all the ways of rush and want and waved-roll feels.
And then, in the after, laughter and mirth, disbelief that such was real and true entirely theirs: theirs in share, theirs in make, in all the ways of gentleness and strengths in close and unbroken hold of heated winter bodies.