ainter

The sky dawned in rich cerulean blue,
mantled by wisps of cloud.  He woke relieved,
and on re-entering the rose garden
became swoon-lightened with calm vibrancy:
a cascade impression of shifting shades
inviting him back with alluring scents,
as bloom bowed a graceful breeze of wave warmth.
His still life stirred, and she walked the ground aslant,
strolling the garden with movement and ease.
He brushed a hand . . . and they merged in sympathy.