And it's around 4:05 on a day that stops at 7
I slipped my hands in my pockets and overlapped the tips of my shoes a little. I kicked at a pebble, missed and didn’t care. I pivot, smile, and lower myself to meet you. You’re sitting on that log we used to fish from. My skirt and the wind seem to be caught in a game of cat and mouse, but it comes down low enough that I’m not worried about exposure or anything like that, you know. You don’t say anything at first, I just cross my arms like an x on my legs while I wait patiently. There’s no rush. Only fools rush eternity. You look at the pond and pick a daisy, the only one, and put it in my curls. You kiss my button nose and cup my neck. I stand and twirl a little because the air feels nice and the sun feels like warm sugar on my legs. I stop about ten feet away and just look at you. I looked at the curls flipping in different ways. I think I see the water when I look at your eyes. I want to drink you up. Your shoulders could make me shiver deliciously like none other. You’re chin’s a bit scruffy like I like it and your hair is disheveled. Not because I want you, though I do, because of the way God knew exactly how to make you. He knew how to make your hands fold around mine so we can pray and feel close. You glorify Him in existence. I think of how He floods your veins. Your hands are in your pockets and you’re skipping rocks and I’m staring with lips parted like the sea ready for you. I can’t see anything around us but God. Trees, water, logs, high grass, you know, a bumble bee here and there. And that old Bible we found on that train once, it’s in a little bag slung over my shoulder. But that’s it. Just loveliness. I skip over to you barely containing the joy I’m dying to explode with and sit down so I can put my feet in the water. I run my fingers over some lace at the bottom of my skirt and then wipe some dirt of my knee; I don’t know how it got there. I look around again, at nothing in particular. Just thinking about God and how He is. Your hand is soft and gentle but urgent on my arm. I stand and move closer; I squeeze my legs in between yours and you play with a strap of my white tank top. Caressing my shoulder soon after, you kiss me softly on the nape of my neck, with one hand on each side of me. I feel warm underneath your hand. You pull back and smile. I return it.
Dave Legere
Interesting piece. good stuff.
dave