COTTON MAGIC.

 Ketchum, Idaho
(Frenchman's Bend)

I waited for the sun to rise a bit higher before waking her. 

matching her breathing to mine & the rustle of the wind against the pine. 

there is a song one should appreciate more,  

it is the song of morning, before the world wakes up.

The smoke from last night's fire danced, waltzing & fox trotting to the sky and past my nose, along with smell of smoked salmon.

I remember looking up for what seemed like hours, 

at the crowds of cotton passing by.
time froze in cotton magic. 

light prisms,

freeing us of mind prisons.