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Indian Summer.
Shimmering Heat
And Shimmering Nights.
Hot and Humid,
Nights to bare Skin.
Burying hands in a carpet of clean smelling grass.
Sprawled and Tawny from the Sun.
Blood Boiling,
We Meet.
We smell of Earth and Dirt and Desire.
This field a temple and our bodies an offering.
Primal,
We Bite and Clash,
And Revel.
And Join.
Arms and legs tangled,
Breath intermingled,

Sounding out in harsh cries.
We are Alive;
To Run and Dance and Climb mountains.
We are Youth.
Immortal.

Reviews

[JRB]

We are Alive;
To Run and Dance and Climb mountains.
We are Youth.
Immortal,
nice write i enjoyed the read, and the above lines,
Jan/uisiom

[HoorayForUnderdog]

You are a talented poet, Erin...great job capturing summer and youth and all that entails.