“Thank you for the lightness I feel in the times we speak,” he shared as they traipsed slow through the winter woods. Suspend of mist veiled depth of view and made quiet their steps in fall onto sodden leaves of the understory. “I feel safe and trust, and when I do—I hope, which means I’ll probably become a fool…I hope you like him too…”
Through the veil, sun burned making bright the heavy sky. Somewhere in the trees, unseen, a bird sang out in search of love, believing it already spring.
She made light his burden, words like light, dispelling weight and heavy.
“We’re free to be fools before those we trust. That’s how we learn our people…We find that they don’t mind and even enjoy the selves we hide.”
She stared in gaze on sky around and the way it glowed right then. Maybe she had seen before, but if she had, for her life, she could not remember: the way it shone in surround and full of cloud and light in now.
Maybe it was sign, symbol-omen in the shine.
She felt a warmth in glow-flood’s touch despite immerse of mist-veil around.
She took his hand and, together, they walked. His hold was warm. Hers was cold. In hold, they became the same—their heartbeats too; his slow and deep, hers faster in begin but in the calm of flesh-to-flesh, she became in resonance with him; soothe and steady pulsing, one-rhythmic into other.
They spoke little after, keeping hold, as they continued on together, traipsing in the levity and glow-veil of lighted woods.