(Picture Prompt)

Laying, gazing
through the window
in the canopy covered meadow
with you.

The woolen blanket protects our skin
from the straw mountain grass
as our shoulders and hips
press against one another
while our heads meet at the temples.
Our hands naturally find their indentations
and crevices
that have melted into the other
over time.

The aspens rustle and sing a song
with their golden painted leaves
that flit with the air
while the eyes on their white trunks
watch us with wonder and
sweetly sway back-and-forth
to the rhythm of the wind
and dance just for us.