A summer night in August

Light glistened through the trees, bedazzled greens

A gentle east wind made the leaves look like they were dancing

The evening sun made its pink and purple marks in the sky, 

As if to say, though in a whisper, loudly: just one last look before I lay goodnight 

For the first time that day, she was conscious of her breath 

An evanescent moment so rich, easily missed, she forced herself to stillness

Unaware that somewhere high in the heavens sat the figure of a man

With stained hands of pink and purple and red

And as she looked at the sky and the trees and the dancing leaves

This artist of a man stopped to stare at her golden hair

And the way it fluttered and blew in the east wind 

The light of the late sun reflecting in her wide-eyed flawless face

“Beautiful,” they said softly in unison 

Humming a harmony that put even the prettiest birds to flight