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August Evening
It is dusk on our Midwest small truck farm.
We are sitting in our creaking porch swing,
Quietly creating a breeze in this stillness.
Lightning flashes on the distant horizon;
Shadows and light dance across your face.
Beads of sweat glisten, slowly rolling down;
Dripping from your chin to your amble chest.
Leaning into you, my lips kiss your neck;
The saltiness of your skin thrills my soul.
"It's too dang hot to get any ideas, Jed.
Just sit in the swing, watch the sky, and listen."
I said, "Ellie, you know how I get, my love.
Even after fifty years with you, I feel fresh
Sitting in this swing on an August evening."
Ellie smiled "Jed, you old Scamp… just behave!"
We both laughed, as tenderly I took your hand,
Swinging as darkness falls on a full moon night.
The cicadas chirped out their love songs;
The crickets join them writing a symphony of romance.
Our eyes meet, we enter fully into this moment;
Silence draws us closer, closer still… even closer.
Our lips are drawn into a kiss for all of the ages;
Sparks ignite the fires of our long standing passion.
The screen door slaps shut as we enter the house;
We climb up the staircase, entering into our room;
Looking back at you, dear reader, I close the door.
You hear us giggling inside like school kids,
As we make love on an August evening.
2Aug11
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