dancing mists

picnic at pillow lake
four feet in the sun in the morning
where the evergreens shade the sand far from shore
we rest by Sentinel Fall
in the early summer
before the cottonwoods bloom
along the waterline
my hand extends for your kiss
the high forest watches the embrace
in an angle of full repose
we pause under the towers
of the north wall
the white day of noon
after the rain
heats our basket of fine fruits
and the dancing mists
cover your hair with jewels.