Rumi in the Grass

Underneath the oak I lay
on grandmother's patchwork
looking up through the limbs,
graceful architecture in silhouette
against the flawless blue
heaven above us.

You sit with your back
against the tree, reading softly
in a soothing cadence
that calms my soul
like only poetry can achieve

in elegant arrangement.

The sun warms my face
The wine drenches my heart

There is no past
nor future here to torment
my restless spirit's
imperfect reflections,
only this moment of
unconditional bliss,
lingers in conscious rapture.