Today was thick and warm, swelling like a marshmallow
held over our summer campfire.
We slipped down the narrow, curving creek,
a run-on sentence near the page's waist
in the book you left lying open, face down,
on the night table.

The banks yawned up over our heads,
and sunflowers lined the cusp of the ridge
watching us, a silent yellow audience of earth
bound stars.
The paddle breaking the surface of the water
was the only sound, amplified by the miniature
valley we were conversing with.