David

Blown,
as a leaf is blown
skittering before the wind.
Swept,
as a branch is swept
helpless on the rolling current;
but aware, alive, pondering,
and whispering within itself: yes?

Affirmation, invitation, anticipation,
joyous re-creation?

Awareness of re-birth entails a choosing.
The purity of flame?
The balance of strange waters?
A balm, to heal and soothe?
The wisdom of a child?
A dancer within your soul?
A soul, crying out: Yes!

Affirmation, invitation, anticipation,
joyous recreation.

And I am swept.

Galeshka

Skin touches skin with scents intermingling,
casting the world further away with each in-drawn breath.
Examining each others faces with fingers as well as eyes
they strain to See in the pale blue of moonlight.
Straining against the bond of time, escaping to eternity,
she sighs and moves closer, wanting;
softness of skin on skin as her hands glide
touching his face, his arms, his back,
and returning to his face, exploring the shadows and planes
gently stroking, gliding, feathering her fingers-
hungry to experience him.
Seeking, reassuring, exploring, joyfully wondering;
wanting nothing save her delight in his presence.
And all is still, not even whispering,
only the sound of breath, and the rustle of small movements
as her hand glides, and they quietly embrace.
She lays her head against him
and there is the small dampness of tears
but neither sorrow nor pain, an excess of joy,perhaps.
Wondering, she reaches out to touch his face once again
the line of the nose, the arch of a brow,
gently tracing his lips and feeling them twitch against her fingertip.
Smooths his hair back from his face,
then nestles down, pillows her head on his shoulder
smiles as he slides down into sleep
and propping her head on her hand,
watches the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes deeply in sleep,
and stands guard over his dreams.


Galeshka