In nature, we feel
our thoughts Intertwine,
Inviting, as
I hold your hand in mine
Our fingers red
from plucking raspberries
Before the foxes
come at night to glean.
The deer now slowly peak
above the grass
While Summer says
this night will be its last.
You are my Wild One.
With wild flowers
tucked beneath your head
A breeze at dusk
brings bouquets unto our bed
Like butterflies
that flutter on milkweed.
You’re dressed in
Queen Anne’s Lace and Fireweed.
The sounds that slowly
woo us to a dream:
Cicadas and soft winds
between the trees.
the fragrance writer 