There is nothing so sweet as the taste of summer blackberry. Bittersweet is the tearing of brambles against the back of my hand.
Joyful is the sound of one little girl whose every word is a shout of praise. Testing is the noise level.
At night, doing battle in the mind-maze, there is nothing so gentle as the sound of rain. The humidity curls my hair.
But nothing, nothing so kind as the kissing away of a lover’s quarrel, the smoothing of a forehead.
Restful until the morning comes.