I went to speak with her last night.
A perfect night.
A warm and windy night.
I approached the steps of her home.
There she moved, in front of me.
Divine. Glorious. Dancing.
Naked and wild under the new moon.
I smiled. She noticed.
I approached lovingly.
Respectfully.
She tickled my feet with cool fingers.
Questioning where I’d been.
Laughter was my only reply.
She knows me.
I asked her to bathe me. To wash away my fears.
She agreed, in her way, and kissed me.
Slowly at first, as was my desire.
Our passion grew in perfect rhythm.
One with the other.
She blessed me with wave after wave of salty water.
Cleansing me of worry.
With each swell my burden dissipated.
Relieved.
As I relaxed, so did she.
Receding. Soft, rolling undulations.
Allowing me to finish the process myself.
S. Conde