her fingers feathering the dark  magnolia leaves
stroking the foilage like it were a housecat

his fingers wrapped around the taped raquet handle
in a firm yet dexterous grip, waiting to enter the fray

her fingers deep within the loamy soil
communing with the larger whole

his fingers  testing  the grain of the wood
looking for the sweet spot, the soul

her fingers  raised to lips, creating  a mask
thoughts to the rest of the day

his fingers  poised above the computer
awaiting the spark to flare

her fingers in the tresses of his hair
asking for more connection

his fingers playing across the rise of her breast
answering all her questions

her fingers, her hands hard upon his shoulder blades
seeking the length, the depth, of him

his fingers, his hands on her ****
fullfilling their need

their fingers intertwined
as they sleep....together