White Light

She falls asleep upstairs

Smelling of

Fresh picked lavender

Her naked body

Braided within

Majenta sheets

Adorned with a purple

Moorish pattern

Found on Berber pillows

Or Moroccan caravan tents

Her skin

Carved soapstone

Smooth

Breathing

In reflection

Of the moon’s white light

Tonight

I remember white light

I drift past the screen door

Of the front porch downstairs

Into the same white light

To walk the dog

Into a town 

Of bioluminescence

There is a sweet breeze

I distantly recall

White light confection

Perfection

Swirly dreams

And flashbacks

I listen to the throaty drone

Of a shovelhead 

Not shifting

Hitting it up the hill of a county road

A few blocks from where I was standing

The dog and I listen

To this soundtrack

Of white light night

Assured that it didn’t 

Disturb her sleep

A few blocks away

On a second floor

After I walk this dog

I will return to her

To magenta

And soapstone

And the smell of lavender

Bathed in the cinematic