~~~A summer time piece from my post-Civil War romance, Hand-me-Down Bride
~~On the way to the hayfields, Karl and Sophie marvel at the beauty of a blooming field of Buckwheat.
Karl watched her. She had walked into the field, delighting in the moment, in the sun, in the sea-froth-over-sage color of the buckwheat. He'd caught a flash of her joy; joy in the splendor of this land!
After the long and terrible war, after his illness, it had been hard to find joy in his heart at anything. Today, Karl felt free as a swallow, flashing over the rising corn.
Sophie was framed against the light, her plain apron lifted by a firm young bosom, her dark hair wound beneath the bonnet. Above, great clouds sailed in shattering blue, and the buzz of those thousands of bees echoed some dream space he'd been to before, the white hum of eternity.
He tied the reins to a sapling and got down. He had wanted to put his arms around her, to mold her breasts against his chest, to catch the scent of her, to drink from those rosy, undoubtedly sweet lips. Now, he waded into the field after her, wanting even more to share her moment of happiness.
A simple gift. . .
"Das ist schon!" Face radiant, she turned. "It is beautiful!”
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