He follows her into the fields
where in his Mustang they made
tracks in dirt roads,
smoke filled curtains
disguising their trail while
running away to the shade
under a hundred year old oak,
horse blanket spread beneath
branches long and strong
reaching up to heaven,
opening wide, nothing hidden,
nothing between them,
just the sound of the wind
whipping through the tall rye,
rubbing one blade against the other
as seeds dropped one at a time
on the earth, fixing themselves
into tiny cracks where they sink
deeply into tiny fissures
anticipating the first drops of rain
to nourish them and make them burst
into new growth, maturity achieved
upon the warm touch of his hand
on her body, the heat of his lips
pressed against hers, the power of
his muscled body underneath
the tender skin of her youthful hands,
her fingers gliding through the soft
layers of hair trickling down in
the shape of a Y, straight down and
disappearing behind the weight of
his belt buckle, tossing bones in the dirt,
they take the first of
what would become many a chance
in the fields behind
the Pair A Dice Ranch.