Morning Work

Morning arrives again; our tasks renewed
Thick tall grasses bend low, laden with dew
Beads catapult before us in shining arcs,
Shed by the steady rhythm of my glistening boots
We water our vegetables to a backdrop of droning bullfrogs
Then continue our patrol - there's more that needs doing
You let me hold you in the sunlight, golden and intimate
A low, pulsing rush through my fingertips; my eyes linger
That familiar velvety warmth summoned within
We laugh as I shake off the last few drops, put you away
My breath catching as I marvel at your rising swell
Barn doors moan as we slide them ajar, entering slow
Slipping into cool stillness, met by gentle nicker of horses
Beams of window light slice bright ribbons through dust-laden air
Swallows dart overhead, swooping artfully in search of fallen morsels of grain
Every creature's hunger satiated except ours
We retreat to the house, shedding shoes at the door
Swaying like dancers towards our bedroom
Where we will savor the sweet fruits of our morning work.

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