Woodland love

Through air cold as ice they ran,
over pretty leaves of gold and brown,
crushed more dead by each soft footfall.

He caught her, laughing, and swung her round.

She saw his eyes and lent back
against thin hard vertical bark.

He cupped her face tenderly either side
and ran his hands gently up to course
her hair through his fingers.

Taking hold he pulled her head back
to show her beautiful neck
with delicate strain like his arcing cock.

And she looked up and saw the arcing trees
bending away towards the stars.

He bent low and kissed her throat,
and moved up to whisper in her ear
how sublimely beautiful she was. And she was.

As she was kissed, she watched
and saw amongst the wind drifted trees,
the silhouette of a flying bird.

She saw its eyes as black,
watching her as she writhed
in silky analogue motion
that jumped with each digital phase
of the bird’s flight frozen
as in a freeze frame film.

And so she saw his passion granted,
as part of a universal flow.

She saw and gave and came
as the birds saw and knew.

She arced her graceful back
and squirmed across the face
of the man who knew her in his lust.

Flying up there with those knowing birds,
over the moonlit silvered trees
and through the star splintered dark,
she looked down in her ecstasy
and saw two people entwined
in their confusion and their
lust tempered by love.

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