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Description
We both hold hands as we walk along under those diamonds of the abyss, the stars.  A mutual awe of the world in which we live has instilled a silence in both of us, but I begin to hum the first movement of Beethoven’s violin concerto.  Classical is not her genre of choice, but she has a sincere appreciation for it nonetheless, and she enjoys my humming.
Night sounds surround us.  The chirping of crickets and a few birds, all such small things, are no less wonders than the stars we see hundreds of trillions of miles away, and despite the immense difference in scale, these mundane wonders balance and even accentuate each other.  Still, the best part is the smell of night.  The air is crisp and sweet, and though anyone familiar with the cellular biology of plants could explain this phenomenon, it is close to magic to me.
For years, the most serene feeling I knew was this awe, but that had been superseded by the feeling her presence inspired.
Our thumbs caress each other in affection as we stroll wordlessly.
After a few repeats of the simple eight-bar theme, she begins humming along with me.  Our voices sound good together.
She releases my hand and bounces off with that adorable gait of hers, retrieving a wildflower I cannot identify.  She holds it under my nose, and I take in the fragrance.  It is delicate and sweet.  I smile, and this makes her smile more.  I give her a one-armed hug, and we continue onward.
Presently, the trees, already sparse, give way to a rocky clearing.  We’ve reached our destination.  I sit down on one of the surprisingly comfortable rocks partially embedded in the ground, and she sits on my lap.  We are just in time to watch the full moon set behind the distant mountains.  Their snowy crowns look otherworldly in the pale light.  We’ll spend another hour walking back, and tomorrow’s glorious dawn will be the price we pay for this late pilgrimage, but it was worth it; we’ll see plenty more during our time here.

Description
We both hold hands as we walk along under those diamonds of the abyss, the stars.  A mutual awe of the world in which we live has instilled a silence in both of us, but I begin to hum the first movement of Beethoven’s violin concerto.  Classical is not her genre of choice, but she has a sincere appreciation for it nonetheless, and she enjoys my humming.
Night sounds surround us.  The chirping of crickets and a few birds, all such small things, are no less wonders than the stars we see hundreds of trillions of miles away, and despite the immense difference in scale, these mundane wonders balance and even accentuate each other.  Still, the best part is the smell of night.  The air is crisp and sweet, and though anyone familiar with the cellular biology of plants could explain this phenomenon, it is close to magic to me.
For years, the most serene feeling I knew was this awe, but that had been superseded by the feeling her presence inspired.
Our thumbs caress each other in affection as we stroll wordlessly.
After a few repeats of the simple eight-bar theme, she begins humming along with me.  Our voices sound good together.
She releases my hand and bounces off with that adorable gait of hers, retrieving a wildflower I cannot identify.  She holds it under my nose, and I take in the fragrance.  It is delicate and sweet.  I smile, and this makes her smile more.  I give her a one-armed hug, and we continue onward.
Presently, the trees, already sparse, give way to a rocky clearing.  We’ve reached our destination.  I sit down on one of the surprisingly comfortable rocks partially embedded in the ground, and she sits on my lap.  We are just in time to watch the full moon set behind the distant mountains.  Their snowy crowns look otherworldly in the pale light.  We’ll spend another hour walking back, and tomorrow’s glorious dawn will be the price we pay for this late pilgrimage, but it was worth it; we’ll see plenty more during our time here.