I lean against the buff Oak and catch whiffs of dried herbs and desert sage, distant aromas carried along the breeze of stormy weather lurking at the horizon.
A sip of Marsala tickles my palate like cashmere rose petals melting upon my tongue.
When two finches, flaunting breasts of cadmium orange, dart across my gaze, they turn my attention to the dark reflecting pond before me. The pool gazes back in the waning light, deep and sorrowful.
Sister moon greets the dusk and lends a shimmer to the amethyst orchids which dance at the water’s edge. They are dancing to the song of the storm.