Under Sun

“And so from the years of toil, under sun, his hands were toughened, and calloused.
 Callous over callous, till no splinter, or cold steel, or jagged edge of stone would piece him in his day.
But as day faded, with the touch of her skin, he could feel.
Every breath, every heartbeat, each sigh and word would go through him. And touch him straight to his heart.
And his spirit was pleased with the strength and beauty we witnessed in her.
And so he did not think of the night, even as it was near.”