She stoops only to gather fragrant bunches
While gurgling voices spill over slippery rocks,
Splashing cool sprays on
Delicate saffron buds.
Tall wavy grasses
Tickle brown berry feet
That float like daisy-cutters
Beyond the song-filled meadow.
Throwing open the door,
She spies him, patient and level-headed,
Wondering and waiting and wishing
That she did not have to be so busy.
But eyes smile to match
The slow grin spreading
Across his face like
Morning sunshine fills the kitchen.
Her gift accepted…