Homemade Lemonade in the Summer

The light is so tender,
So thoughtful and gentle,
Barely gracing us with it's presence,
For fear it might touch us
A sweetest disposition,
Hanging in the air in clusters of gold dust.
And the sun becomes liquid
As it breaks the horizon,
Spilling over the back garden gate,
All over us and all over the world
Spreading like spilt milk
Slightly hazy, cloudy
Summer air falling like lazy dust.
We walked for a while,
Held between the Earth and the sky,
Trees hitching up their sleeves
And reaching for the sun,
We did not disturb,
We barely moved ourselves
Existence is subjective when the world cannot see you,