Waiting for Harvest

Last summer:
Words slip,
should we?
fingers drip,
we should
thoughts quip
in non-polite whirls
over flesh, succulent marbled swirls
skin gives off the sweetest relent
under the slightest pressure,
a solstice advent
The waiting…the waiting…waiting
To dive in,
pluck the seeds of summer,
overgrown vines pulling up sunshine
kissing thickened air to where it all began,
the night we kissed inside a citrus moon
underneath covers in circles we swam
to where needs were planted,
places where temptation swooned
intentions chanted
Two chords,
strung up beads of desire
carried on the tease of a breeze
wrapped and twisted along fields,
to where plentiful wills yield
necklaces laced with your face,
gorging against a split peach sky,
the forked road where we ate
the watermelon
Voices thrown,
bonds knot,
laughter known
and joy sought,
life is here,
pleasure caught
under our juicy high,
my Pink Lady smile
giddy beneath an apple sky

