Kisses into white

This morning is one of those lovely mornings that I have named my life after.It is a beautiful nimbostratus morning. Just out my window I see the boughs of rhododendrons hanging low, and a cedar with leaves that look black instead of green. Across the road, the neighbors fence becomes faint in the white that moves out beyond it into a land of sheer mystery, where only sound can reach ones senses, that of an occasional ferry sounding the fog horn. Senses deprived of stimuli; imagination becomes rich with feeling, sensual delight. Like a lover with cool lips who has been out all night in the cold and has come to visit and kiss me all over my face with his affection, and warm his lips upon me.