They worked in the garden all afternoon under high of bright spring-sun. On the wind, a cool remained. Part work, part pleasure, part simply living time together, they labored in a common purpose, a common passion, a common joy; and, when efforts live such way, labor seemed as play.
Nearing to end, she departed first, making for indoors, as he remained a while longer upon the plot of land. March, around, he heard again the drone of frogs waking from the winter; a sound he never thought about when silenced into dormant but one remembered, fresh and new, whenever it returned.
He listened to sound then knowing night’s cold would silence it again.
Knees on his jeans bore the print of kneel and soil-press from working in the earth, yellow-brown of a fine clay-loam made more fertile in incorporation and turning under of residue from crops and growth of year before.
Year before had been good for tomatoes. It had been poor for others. Every year was different, but he thought most of the good having lived and found that doing helped one to best see the same in presence to the present.
Yellow-hour had begun, sky’s change from blue but not yet gold nor taken in evening flame; a softer tone of glow preceding follow, like quiet and still of contemplation’s first-begin.
He looked on the sky, listened to song and drone of frogs, faint, in distance and pools restored in an after-rain.
Listening, content, alive in gentle mirth, he said goodbye to garden and sky in head for indoors and follow of her into home.
He opened door. He closed behind, removed his dirt-worn boots on matted place.
In the home, new song carried—light and ethereal—like water drops into pool of cave, echoing in the space; or raindrop-same in leafed fall on pond-side edge in rainbowed sky of after-storm.
It was sound of the first, feel of the second. Home was something in between—closed and covered but filled with light, spectral and prismed in cast through west-faced glass.
Light and airy, source was from high. Seeking, he made movement for its find. Ascending stairs, windowed turn, further flight before, he climbed in seeking of the source. Louder clearer—purer—song became as he neared onward to its origin.
Through half-closed door, light of the room in showing through, he opened to whole of brilliance of light; song full and clear in arrive at source as she undressed before closet door.
Pants already off, her legs shone bare long and toned and fine. Sight and beauty of her wide-borne hips shined of the western light; her high still covered in black top she wore as they labored together in the garden.
Maybe it was sun. Maybe it was she, but there graced a loveliness in her eyes; a brightness and hue that made him swoon of a sensed tenderness; their bright and color in fair of face, freckle-dappled in after-sun, fall of her hair like waved sunrays as true cast straight through window’s glass.
Presence for the present. She was that, gift of life and spirit; dream-moment in a living—ethereal of sight and music-sound.
He moved to her, she smiled soft, eyes’ light and glow the more. They savored in warmth of kiss’ first-touch sense, grace of lips, one’s to other’s; fluid part into stronger and still gentle lasting.
Raise of his hands in under of black, shirt raised as he held her high; warmth of her flesh in under-cover of shirt and day labors of pleasure and play.
Nip of her teeth, light to his lip, calling his back to hers, as he drew away to see dream-moment view.
Song sang the moment:
“I remember the evening. The air was cold outside.
I was wanting for nothing. Somehow you arrived.
Standing on younger ground. We didn’t know what we’d found.
When the world put you in front of me and we aligned.”
Yellow light turned into gold becoming evening flame then fade of glory into dreams: fire sky becoming dark and spanse of wishing stars. Through all, they kept–gentle and present. Through all, song played too, in sing of their night-truth.
“We stayed up all night (to watch the sunrise).
We stayed up all night (we never felt so alive).”
“We stayed up all night (to watch the sunrise).
We stayed up all night (we never felt so alive).”
