William

July farm stirring with fragrant hay,
Verdant and sweet,
Stretched below the vast dome
Of cerulean spun with wisps of white.
I watch you labor in the field,
Sense the heat on your back,
Inhale the summertime scent of your windblown skin,
Observe the movement of muscle
Beneath the sweat and chaff on your arms.
I admire the mastery of your hands
On fresh bales in sunlight,
And anticipate the magic of those hands
On my breasts in twilight.
Sunset brings pause,
Brings you back to me,
Under tree and roof,
To wine and wind-down on the back porch
And fingers intertwined.
I smell the sun in your mustache,
Taste plum and berry on your tongue
As it caresses my own.
We breathe each other as
Day dwindles to stars and silence,
Until we know it is time
To mind the squishy step,
And make our way upstairs,
Where your soul is laid bare
In farmer’s eyes of earth and green,
As I unveil my own
In eyes of rain and cloud,
And we make our own world,
For a little while……