Gray and gloom filled mist-fall dawn, sodden sky burdened of the weight. Without the light, without the gold, he felt melancholy take.
He did not want the feel.
He turned his eyes from outer world and focused inward to surroundings of their home: open space, old furniture, rug before the hearth—and she.
She read his eyes, knew his spirit, and in her own she shone compassion and an empathy toward despondence to sky’s depression.
Compassionate, she rose. Compassionate, she tended; enkindling again a light of source in his greater being.
With kiss, she broke sky-sadness’ spell. With touch she woke him on. Fire of hearth in warm of the room, in room’s openness—only them.
Never a word but in their kiss, language of lips, they spoke, shared, and willed away melancholy of the gray.
Awaken of spirit, heat of the hearth, inner rising of the same, they greater spoke, greater shared, communing on in build and growth into need for whole body’s say.
Beyond the walls of oaken home hidden in the trees, its open room and hearth aflame by her enkindle, gray and gloom remained in mist-fall of the sky.
But within, by fire’s heat, love’s make willed them through.