A walk in the evening at the end of winter. The late afternoon sun lays on our necks as a warm breeze and the smell of pine leaves and a fresh rain drifts by. Nothing is said, we just walk. We enjoy the small sounds that our feet make on the wet dirt trail.
Under the trees the sun sparkles on the ground through the leaves and lights our way to another hour of quite chats and warm conversation. We take comfort in knowing we are who we are supposed to be and where we are supposed to be. The creek tickles by, keeping time with nothing in particular, but letting us know that we are the only ones that need to listen. And we do. We listen - quietly, lovingly.
