When daylight's a berry stain
spread on the sky, I dance up your road
with my skirts hiked high and my hips swung
slow in a jezebel-sway, and my feet
are bare below.
I owl-whistle twice to rouse you, watch
as you shimmy down the big oak
from your window; then you're by my side
and I'm twined around you,
tight as a semmony-vine.
The night spits fire when it falls; the storm
leaves us soaked to our bones
and laughing-sore as we race
rolls of thunder to the big chair
under the roof of your porch.
And there, shedding years like shivers of rain,
we kiss for the first
and the longest time.
