A silver lining illuminated a single cloud floating in the sky above my head, noticed first by my companion as we sat basking in late day August sunlight.
It appeared quietly, a visitor I failed to notice, hanging in the sky and listening to us as we felt our way toward each other across the landscapes of our lives; here describing verdant places, relating stories, there owning up to places withered by neglect or discord, each describing the sort of unexpected journey that life proffers when we try to live it fully.
He was direct, self-possessed, perhaps stronger and more mature; somewhat anxious, I thought, over where our conversation was taking us. His eyes rested on the horizon, measuring the sky.
And I was absorbed in the moment: enjoying his handsome face, the sun, the wine, his stories, the sound of his voice … indulging in the sum of the moment as the sun sunk in the west, washing the patio in heat and light.
Our afternoon drink ended in a lingering kiss sweeter than I could have imagined and a parting smile that felt like warm summer rain on my legs.
A silver lining that, credit where it is due, was all his creation on the landscape.
Backyard Botanics@Miller Hill Farm 