Early Spring
It's
the time of year
when
dawn exhales
blowing
last year's dreck
across
disked fields
Bending
brown stand of brome
catching
last years debris above
new
blade growth tender green
only at
dusk to pause and inhale
Liquid
warmth of gossamer lay
sheer
upon tender breasts
nuzzle
'til rise 'n fall of chest stops
perhaps
just sleeping
Entwined
in symbiotic rhythm
limbs
wrapped about the other's trellis
only to
waken before sunrise
and
graciously repeat
Poem
20-091A
#westernnebraskathoughtsandlife,
#highplanespoet, strong_winds, rhythms, love
As the
sun rises the wind picks up until softening at dusk this time of year. Life on the high plains.
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