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Nov 2019
A gentle breeze, warmly caressing pastel blossoms in this field of flowers,
Wafting their fragrance, light and sweet, filling the air, stirring the senses.
Across the valley, a string quartet pours its music into the wind currents
Mixing with the sweet fragrances, creating a rich symphonic experience.

I see her approaching from across the field, and she seems to see me also
As she quickens her pace, her billowing dress as an approaching cloud.
I hurry to meet her, my heart quickened by her countenance, her elegance,
Anticipating her in my arms, pulling her close in a welcoming kiss.

At last, arms reach for one another, we press together in warm embrace,
Lips seeking that first anticipated kiss that transports to our desire.
We fall together into pastel blossoms, feeling their feathery gentle touch,
Taking in the aroma of their pleasured sacrifice under our anxious bodies.

With string music wafting and building upon the gentle warm breezes,
The now heady mixed aroma of flowers and grass and rich loamy earth,
Semaphores, quietly signal the inevitable arrival of an inner storm,
Lightning flash and deeply rolling thunder, unseen but richly sensed.

High clouds billow the clear sky, a Morse code of sunlight upon us
Winds rising to wash over the rolling, roiling waves of a crystal sea,
Ancient spirits in awe looking jealously upon this sensuous stage
Trees rattling their leaves in perceptible polyrhythmic percussions.

The bull elk stamps and trumpets a declaration of his royal possession,
A meadowlark sings her heartsong in counterpoint to the string quartet.
And the inner storm, receding into the soft outpouring of a spring rain,
Clouds clearing, creating the soothing aura of a gentle sun shower.

Senses withdraw from their heightened pique, tingling in the afterglow,
Now, in self isolation, begins the recovery from an enraptured encounter
Drifting thru soft silken veils, finding ourselves in each other's arms
We breathe each other's breath, sharing heartbeats as we gently embrace.

A gentle breeze, warmly caressing pastel blossoms in this field of flowers,
Wafting their fragrance, light and sweet, filling the air, calming the senses.
Across the valley, a string quartet pours its music into the wind currents
Mixing with the delicate fragrances for a luxuriously quieting concerto.
Written by
A Poet's Voice  Male
(Male)   
78
     L B, Rob Rutledge, --- and To Be Frank
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