The air was hot and thick
scents of a ripe apple orchird stinging the nose.
The wind was warm and quick,
with a rythym as steady as prose.
The dark night held Grace,
and Grace held it back,
such a calm settled face,
seeing life through the black.
Careful not to disturb the newfound peace
Quiet steps were taken.
Like fluttering fingers on the softest fleece,
Night calmed a soul once shaken.