Crisply cool

teeth sliding into
an almost ripe green apple
The rush of sour sweet

honking faintly
distant v against blue sky
forecasts winter

along the wood’s path
our feet trampling crisply
curled yellow-orange leaves

speaking in hushed tones
breath curls frostily from mouths
mingles as we kiss

smoke from burning leaves
your nose cold against my cheek
my hand warm in yours

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My north star

The funeral was yesterday.
Lily-scented stillness and
prerecorded Hymns
on loop singing
of infinity infinitely,
or at least
it felt that way to my 40-
year old body and
10 year old soul.

I didn’t cry,
even bombarded
by scents reminiscent
of your lemony polish and
En Jolie powder
faithfully applied
from the body puff
now used
as the mourners’
pre-embalming ritual.

I spoke clearly,
cheerfully even,
of memories,
milestones,
and long-remembered,
passed-down stories
of youthful follies
and days gone by.

Later, on the hill
behind the house,
I drank honeyed tea
from your delicate
Japanese china cup, cracked
so many tea parties ago.
And alone watched the stars
rise above darkened
tree-tops as I cried
and named a constellation
after you.

Slipping into autumn

Distant mountaintops
Enveloped in morning mist
Peer through the sheer veil

The oaks and maples
Greenly blanket the hillside
One yellowed aspen

The air hints of frost
Dawn’s first blush painted across
Your face soft with sleep.
I pull the blankets closer
Your body warm against mine.

waking

Fog blankets the oaks
Mist rises on the river
Turned blush from the sun
The dampness against bare skin
Slide into your warm embrace
.
Our old maple tree
Turns color in the crispness
More red than your hair
.
Early morning light
Pale through the fall of your hair
Your lips soft with sleep
.
You turn towards me
The sheet slips from your shoulders
soft nipples tighten
.
A sharp autumn breeze
Through the still open window
Hands warm on cool skin
.
Lips against shoulder
Hot kisses on cool skin
I relish your taste
Skin translucent above me
Ivory in the softened light

waking

Fog blankets the oaks
Mist rises on the river
Turned blush from the sun
The dampness against bare skin
Slide into your warm embrace
.
Our old maple tree
Turns color in the crispness
More red than your hair
.
Early morning light
Pale through the fall of your hair
Your lips soft with sleep
.
You turn towards me
The sheet slips from your shoulders
soft nipples tighten
.
A sharp autumn breeze
Through the still open window
Hands warm on cool skin
.
Lips against shoulder
Hot kisses on cool skin
I relish your taste
Skin translucent above me
Ivory in the softened light

oceanfront propriety

silvery moonbeams
dance across your bare shoulders
waltzing on the sand

in the moonlight
your eyelashes cast shadows
across silvered cheeks

a sudden sea breeze
sends goosebumps across our skin
your arms draw me close

as the music crests
fluidly you bend me back
our hips together
the moon casting shadows
in the valley of my breasts

salt on your shoulder
is savory to my tongue
open mouthed kisses

the heat of your mouth
travels the curve of my spine
I sigh

the waves washing in
chill our feet unnoticed
we sway to the moon

coarse sand underneath
waves driving against the shore
arching to your touch

skin crusted with salt
morning reflects in your eyes
night lingers on your lips

tucked in your embrace
we look to the horizon
journey just begun

6am

The fog wisps across
Goldenrod blanketed hills
Blurring morning’s sun

Dandelion fluff
Dampened by morning’s dew
Resembles a wet cat

A red sumac
Dressed in brilliant scarlet
Arrives a bit early

The morning fog
Blurs your silhouette
As you walk away

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