from Golden Rushes:

The night, the gathering, and its people are stretching—not so much to go home already but to prepare for the next stage. Things have been going for a good time now, a deep yawn, taking in some of that fresh summer night air could fuel a few more hours. As if choreographed there is a general leaning back and relaxing from the sky on down. Another one of those drinks there would not be out of place either about now. Yeah…

“Hey…What is that?”

“That’s dancing music…”

Zerron does a little half turn easily as women do when they hear music. Dancing is easier for women. They can do almost anything and look hot. A man however, if he moves too little he looks stiff, if he moves too much he comes off as a drunk puppet. She stops in a giggle and shrugs and smiles. It is dancing, slow dancing music.

The record player has been working away quietly, providing background music for the foreground friends and conversation. Playing mostly instrumental atmospheric tunes to relax the night, it has done well. Now night has descended and progressed and it needed a song and it received this—a classic jazz number, a sung love song. And it played…the tune of the night…to take to bed…to take to dream…

“I have rarely thought…Of all the times before we met…When I was without you / Now, I can’t spare a thought…For any time before we met…And I was without my love / All the skies are turned a richer blue…And all the leaves are flowering too / No I will never give a thought…To any time that is not with you…My love”

To fall in love in the love of a love song. It is everything, it is everyone. There are no boundaries because it is the world. You feel fresh the long day as though you have just woke and stretched, breathed in the morning and the rising sun is showing through your window. It is your air, your life—your dream you wake for. Its love is sweet.

But the song that blows through here—as perfect to the moment, as all-encompassing and eternal as it seems—had its beginning and will have its end. It will pass as a kiss. Lingering for all time—but only as a memory. Love is a wind.

He looks at Zerron and she looks as well. There are no more smiles, no more songs, no more dances. They just enjoy the air between them. The love of a love song seems so real.

They stand, sometimes slightly sway as the song continues, and continue as they are—not doing anything, just each enjoying the other as much as they are being enjoyed…If I could only say what your eyes say…Then a click breaks the moment, the dreaminess, the silence between them…

Next Chapter: Blues of Estlin