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i.
Somewhere between dream and memory,
I find you lying in wet grass,
the heat of the day's sun
radiating from your body
into the cool air,
hands glide across your skin
like water over stone,
following the contours
of the riverbed
to the ocean
inside you
where the moon
waits in darkness
to illuminate the night.
ii.
In the still moments
before dawn,
I taste your wetness,
sweet and pungent
as the soil beneath an apple tree
right after the blossoms have fallen,
hands massage your breasts
in slow rhythm,
calling forth heat
kindled deep inside you,
crescent moon
hangs from your neck,
always waxing,
always
something waiting
to be born.
iii.
You arch your back,
curving like the trunk
of a sapling
in springtime,
nectar on my lips,
tongue spells out
the letters of my praisesong,
tracing ogham
across flesh
soft as apple blossoms,
shapes and rhythms
reminding you
the moon
is just a mirror
for the fire
waiting
within
iv.
You run your hands
along my thighs,
solid like maple,
and feel yourself
becoming
the ground
beneath the tree.
My root sinks deep
seeking water
below the surface,
and feels the heat
burning at your core,
deep beneath the bedrock
strange fire
that shines
through golden eyes
illuminating
the forest around us
like the moon
that calls the sap
to running,
setting me trembling
with life.
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