Softly weave

Fingertips brush
across the tops of violets
as we sit cross-legged
atop the hill
Sun soaks into my clothing
warming me
as the essence of lillies of the valley
drift toward you on the cooling breezes

You sigh
your fingertips skim
the top of my hand
sending a shiver up my spine

While the fingertips
of your other hand
push my hair off my neck
and your lips take their place

Soon my back is pressed against the welcoming earth
a bed of tall grasses
I smell the spring
though it is closer to autumn

You are on top of me now
water eyes searching my own
tongues entwined
fingertips dancing
across flesh

sublime