He imagined Ozark ridge and valley, trail woven to their sides; ochre dust in plume to steps in change of earth in arrive of summer’s hot and dry; stain of the dust as powdered dye to shoes, socks, and pants’ cuff-low; sound of the wind at top of ridge, silence of the blow when down from high and sheltered in the hollow; smallmouth bass in sandstone stream, bronze of their bodies blending in to riverbed of stone; cool of the air when in descent you drew near to river’s run; whisper of its running sound; step into the clearing; blue of sky, green of valley sides, ribbon of light—face of stream—in ripples mirror of high sun; find of a pool, he and she, where water deepened and slowed, leave of clothes upon the bank, swimming in its cool; singe of sun in high and bright to their shoulders and bared skin; her smile and eyes as river’s face—mirror to Heaven’s bright; coy of swim and play and rest—the way she kissed his lips; cloud-shadow over sun and new mystery to her eyes. Wanting to warm again, leave from water’s cool, they went into the trees, clothes’ place and lie of rest unchanged—whole-open to one another and summer’s sun; clear of the trees where forest opened to bed of brome and window of Heaven-light; her lie upon verdure of bed looking high to lover’s blue; her smile and eyes as river’s face—mirror to Heaven’s bright; unhiding of the sun, mystery’s shadow revealed as love; coy of their lie, coy of their play—the way he kissed her lips; warmth of bodies in sun and tight pressing of their hold; beginning, keeping—gentle and lasting like song of river’s whisper.