DAY 119

Crested verse rang deep. New heights with young wood. We share. Stones and tears. Breads are saporous. Shades of birch. Winding down to water. Sliding half the time. Laughter reigns. Aches forgotten.

DAY 116

We swim naked. You thirst for lemonade, I for ice tea. Our feet stained with juice, picking berries as we walk back. I've torn my sleeve on the branch. You kiss the blood and rip my dress more. I only wear dresses this summer. You like it that way. Tan lines have disappeared. Content to talk to no one but you. Read. Sex. Sleep. Lemonade and ice tea.

DAY 95

We're left counting the hours. This again works against us. This too is thrilling. Silently. 51...50...49...48... My heart races. You kiss my shoulder and say, "it only gets better" as I contently drift back into sweat-stained dreams. I remember moments completely unattached. I reassure myself. This is ok. Sweetly we share bread and a moment. Humor merges. Seconds divide.