Spice, perfume, fresh clean soap and water
foams and trickles richly down
your loamy curves as
you ready for the coming day.
I lay in a wild stupor on messed fragrant sheets
wrinkled with the impression of your form.
I soak in scents rich with nutrients
that poured from your skin,
grew in your sweat-
they now bathe mine.
Each breath I take is fortification,
a masterclass of rejuvenation- this is
how I ready for the coming day.
Outside, ants mould red mud into
intricate homes. Inside,
my skin is clay.
You roll, leaven, make dark caves,
through which, my soul radiates.
Dew drops form at the core of palm fronds
that would be our bed- without the thin mesh
insects, foliage at bay.
Smudged lanterns of light pool at
corners and angles,
remind us that beyond our cocoon
of flickering moonlight,
of spangly, wild starlight,
is an eager new sun.
Our bed is lush,
still ready, still waiting.
It invites the universe to come and play
This drenched morning,
this bright day.