She watched her nephew play in the lawn and thought to autumn dream envisioned in see and live of place and light—just as it was then.
Had she seen it wrong, or was vision still becoming, living now but further sign, premonition, and affirmation of what was to become?
She did not know, and she did not trouble in worry. All was blessing and a gift, and her heart was filled with love.
She lived in full her present now, not troubling on what she—nor anyone—could know. Present-now as true, this she knew and lived in completeness in its happening—the budding of the trees that soon would spread giving voice to evening shade when wind blew soft and waved the arbor bodies; the little boy who played in the grass and ran about the lawn setting roots, unknowning, and attuning to a magic of place all their family knew; the golden light before sunset’s fire and dying away into starlight dreams and last sliver of crescent before new moon when moon, like she knew herself to do, was reborn into new cycle of growth and a new becoming.
Like moon, she was constantly reborn, restored anew, and to be kept Wonder in her life.
At night, when boy was asleep and all the rest but she and the one she loved, they made love in the open room where light of stone hearth’s fire burned, strong heat of the close that softened as cast of created light into distance and depths of room.
He raised her to the laurel stove where softly, gently, mirthful and meekly, they made love—quietly not to wake.
She covered his lips with finger’s press, quieted further in replace of touch with her own kiss’ cover; gentle of her hands in hold guiding tender and intimate of their way.
Sometimes, gentleness held greater force than strength. Such was way in their quit love, and when force and flood and feeling came, his lips absorbed her sounds in cover. His hands and hold kept gentle and slowing as her own grasped, pressed, and tightened closer onto him in every way. Her voice still sounding, he absorbed her into kiss.
Adorations in the firelight, wide eyes and pupils as lanterns filled with love and spirit’s light, soft-touching, caressing, she rested still on laurel stove and saw again the autumn dream—life and lawn filled with children born of her racing, playing, dancing in enchantment at evening shade.
They covered their bodies again and slept under blanket on open floor in lie before the hearth.
When morning dawned, she rose first—light mere hint on east’s horizon. Coffee made, she stood on lawn beneath the trees in witness to sun’s rise: depths and tones and hue-change of light like learning of a lover: intimate, vulnerable, revealing in its open and loss of guard and covered veilings—beautiful in showing completeness of one’s self—then intrusion of world and others in; hues and awe and wonders hidden once again.
In her muse—manifesting or coincidence of fate—he met her, standing at her side.
He held her hand as sun rose on and together they witnessed, full, light’s expression—intimate, vulnerable, delicate of a beauty in unguardedness and opening of revelation.
Awe lived in the witness.
After, light hid its depths and beauties into blending with vast blue sky. Moment ended. Door opened and the boy came running free, merry in mirth and morning magic of the place.
In afternoon, when the little boy napped, she and the one she loved walked together into the trees of wooded draws far from home where their voices could be shared.
Stronger than in night, they made under cottonwood upon bed of paled white leaves bleached from autumn gold; crinkle-scratch in sound beneath under movement of their bodies; voices and breaths and sounds of their union lost in join to the songs of birds and speak of the trees moved on a wind, warm and rising from the south.
As gentleness of night held power, so too did their strength in day and voicing of love-song with nature and spring’s own—as power and force is always there when spirit of make is true.
Returned, not making scene, she and her sister giggled as her sister found and drew pale heart-shaped leaf a cottonwood from messed tousle of her lustrous hair.
Her sister was glad to see her happy, in her merriment and joy—in love.
Her sister laid the leaf onto cast-iron top of the laurel stove in corner of the room.
Seeing heart-shaped sign on stove where, night-before, they had been—she blushed.
Her sister saw, unknew the reason why.
She thought of the autumn vision again, new sensing in her womb, and prayed for dream and vision to be: lawn and life, filled with children—running, playing, dancing, in awe—in magic and light of evening shade.