she gave me rueful look in a pretty dress
a spirit i couldnt escape
sitting in a place of honor

springs bubbled among jumbled boulders
headed west on a rutted road

we sat in silence for a minute
i took a breath and said nothing
silence
i stared
i recalled
a gleam below dreams
a small flame perfectly warm

we were silent
i picked up a piece of twig
architecture without glamour
ars gratia artist

tiny butterfly serene and stunning
traversed the main route
traced the curving line of the mountain
deliberately she had met me on the backporch
as if it were the center stage of a theater

she hovering nearby
tracing lines
landmarks