Can you hear it here?
That's right. Nothing.
No noise but the wind
Caressing the trees while they sleep
And birds singing their lullabies
To the lulling land
All the way up here
In perfect serenity.  
There's something spectacular
About these enchanting woods
That man can't create,
Will never be able to create
And I am the outsider among them.
Can something this beautiful
Really exist?
It's like stepping into
Nature's own dream world
And I can't stay here long
Or I might wake her up.
May she sleep on forever.

It's Saturday. We're running late for a wedding.

Scene:

**** body, loosely wrapped in a lime green towel
which, I'm sure, makes the paleness of my skin
downright floresce in the warm, bright sunlight
pouring too generously through the picture window.

A mound of life rises like the moon,
casting a glow all the way to my face.

On a Saturday. One in which we are currently running
quite late now for a wedding.

Contrast:

Against the softness of the sun, a backlight glows with
harshly lit updates from hundreds of people who,
to be honest, I keep up with to be kept up with
and I suppose that makes the glare harsher.

My hands curl softly around the glare, thumbing
gently through this distraction in an effort to abate
the sweltering heat of late April in the WV mountains.

It rests softly on my rising moon, the source
of this precious glow far outshining the scene around
me, although the burst of glorious sunlight coming
would prove me wrong again.

Then it happened.

On a random Saturday morning. We happen to be closing in
on being too late for the wedding.

And my hand jumps.

He kicked me.

And you ran to me.

And we watched in wonder
this life we made,
this man in the moon,
being everything but still,
until we ran out,
still dressing as we
frantically raced
our way to the wedding

(which we were not late for)

on Saturday.