Cool June morn of overcast and cloud, from front porch of the home in trees, they listened to the cricket’s song in keeping on from night. Berber robe that covered her body, she rested warm in its wrap, soft of its plush to her skin beneath—all serene in sense and smooth from expect of summer’s heat.
In quiet and the cool, they rested side by side in silence and contemplations of their own mind. She dreamt of mountains. He—of place in world exactly where they were.
Child still slept, but soon, she would wake to roll and crawl and explore on rugs and floor of the cabin-home where it was they found their peace.
A garden grew. Tomato vines shown yellow-dappled in spread and flowered blooms, fruit of earlier bloom and set burgeoning on lower boughs.
Crickets softened, and the birds took lead—aural in sound and carry in continuity of serene.
Together, they drank their coffee. They dreamed their dreams—quiet and contemplating—in the spirit of serene.