the sun slips away behind us as we
lean into each other near the dance floor.
his beard tickles my forehead,
our hips sway just a little.
we sip our drinks
and watch the bride
hitch up her dress and dance. she laughs, twirls.
the sun, quiet, slides behind a hill.
i press my head into the curve of his shoulder and notice:
where the sun had been there is now a glowing ember.
it does not fade
and the sky around it deepens to a sea of sapphire.
he rests his hand on the round of my hip.
i sway, rest my hand on his.
---karla schuh, july 2012