~

Our bodies rapt

in humus

  scenting of decay

sounding under frost.

  Sun of winter

breathing low

into branches of sky.

Leaves transparent and tart

cover my breasts

my sighs

sinking

touched

into

your

warmth

~

This perfect decent

down down

below

the lilt of meaning

rising and falling

we may never

be found

again

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

“””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

~

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/shelbob/65095407/”>Janesdead</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;