I look out the golden window to see the grasslands full fleshed and full breasted ripe trees bearing oversaturated fruit O yes and perhaps It is the fruit beholding the shine and plump perfection that looks of Grand artifice O apples so crimson I could barely touch it and the rich roots and Ra hangin'a'bove, it is a delightful Saci's-cap-red and each apple seems to be aligned in various patterns of crisscrossing and interconnection, bordering on random but almost calculated I look down at the breakfast table I am seated in capped with Irish breakfasts for all O It is the bare Nature herself and her youthful manifestation, strong and deep into the ground, it makes me feel no turning back, no regret from the small passionate days of pleasure, feeling that beautiful girl Marie, like Nature herself toned to the rivers and mystifying like from the clouds to the depths and our lips jamming brushing feeling against mine O I felt guilty I felt I was taking all the sound and the fury for myself I was eating ll the fruits in the garden, fearing a mistake, being caught, not giving chances and only wishing to please my immediate soul; as the great Wilde said, "I confined myself so exclusively to the trees of what seemed to me the sun-lit side of the garden, and shunned the other side for its shadow and its gloom." but yet I feel between us a growing, a yearning that is blessed and twisted; graft of Love, starting roots of naked Love sweet connection, Big Time Sensuality; buds in our hearts--the ****** soil has been sown yes O this new Spring is coming and a rite of passage passing finally we have made it past restriction and now a new Spring has finally come! the foggy marches of April lose track and pace, and my exuberance comes swiftly but my prayers and wishes for a beautiful quiet life come with the best intentions of grace; hopefully, surely, wonderfully. Dieu en aura plus tost de vous mercis.