I stuck my head out like a dog,

nose upturned, inhaling burning peat

intermingled with hazy wisteria.

The sun in a cloudless sky pierces my retinas.

I'll close them in a minute,

but for now, they absorb the sights that behold.

The hillside stretches out for miles,

pavement molded in crevices where cars like ants drive.

Trees shelter brushes of vibrant lilacs.

The Lakes echoes from the stereo.

She sings, "I'm setting off,

but not without my muse,"

and my mind wanders to her.

I smile and softly graze where her hand

graced the one of the glutton

whose sheepish heart skips when she's away.