He slides into the bed after she is long asleep. It is a well rehearsed dance, and she senses his presence deep within her dreams. He leans into his wife, traces his finger tip down from her temple, along the line of her jaw, into the hollow of her neck. In this dream she has grown younger, more beautiful, as he has bent under the weight of time. In this dream, she dances around him, her feet never touching the floor into which he slowly sinks. As the birds begin their morning symphony, she wakes and slips silently from the bed, her gaze lingering on his slightly graying beard. She kisses him lightly on his cheek, and in his fading dream he reaches the cragged peak of the mountain. He smells the scent of pine, then the faint lavender of her pillow, as she steps into the shower and he eases into morning.