Tilly Evan Jones

It is a late summer afternoon, we are laying on our backs on a warm grassy lawn.  For a while we have our eyes closed, listening to the soft sounds of leaves rustling in the breeze, a bit of grass heads clicking against one another.  A bird song sings across the breeze, answered;  from the distance, by another soft trill.  Sun shines against our cheeks, opening our eyes.  We shade our faces with the back of our hands, and look up into the blue sky, at clouds, floating in the shape of castles, and horses, and love.