There was sweat on my brow,
beads of them as I approached her.

I was a young man, still green.

She was a mature woman
like the long blades grow free
in the lush of nature.

My hand in hers
she took me
into her warmth.

Nervous, shy
you could hear
grass grow

in the quiet
of my fear

in the silence
of my lust.

I knew nothing.

As we rolled in the dew of ***
as I fumbled and groped,
I
in some instinctive wisdom
entrusted myself fully to her.