It isn’t fair, is it, that stars look so much more brilliant when it is cold outside? But here we are, under the rhinestone dotted black blanket sky, laying in the back of this truck, listening to the ice melting, drop by drop, in the naked branches and finger-like limbs of the trees and bushes in the fence row beside us. It smells wet out, like wood smoke and a washcloth left on the bath tub, almost soapy. I hold your hand, and there is such warmth in it. Very surprising how warm and connected i feel.
Laying next to you, it is hard to simply concentrate on the stars. But I want to. They fill your eyes too. What wonders lay up there for us to see? Will we see them together?
A noise in the slushy leaves and amber field grass grabs my attention. I raise up to look for the source. It’s a white and black stray cat, looking at me with the same amount of alertness. It lifts a furry leg tentatively then puts a padded paw on the slush and suddenly, full of energy, bolts along the fence row until it blends into the shadows.
I am about to lay down, but you suddenly pull me down; to your smiling face, your warm lips, and I am lost in kisses.