nikstar44

A cool house in the Texan desert, the curtains scorched and faded just letting the breeze toy with them
as the skies above are gashed and clouds began to slowly seep from the wound
and the coyotes start up a yammer over the other side of the ridges
and the jays leave the stunted tree near the start of the drive

you come running down the path barefoot with your sandles in your hand
stumbling slightly as you reach the hard incline of ground leading up to the fromt steps
worn smooth with the years of wear and the age of the soft wood
the white linen of your dress undulating softly as you pad across the porch
easing the screen door open the way you would gently lift hair away from your face
and you pause for a moment to hear the crows screaming and wheeling up into the troubled reaches of the horizon as the first showers start to spatter down

motionless on the old bed
we lie and listen to its mutterings
we hear the thin glass in the windows bawling as the rain hurls itself against it
and we sip the dark air, the stillness of the space
I stir it, moving my hand across you watching for ripples
watching for lynxes hiding in the soft scrub between your legs
watching for your eyes to open: green through the dull haze of the afternoon
waiting for our breath to keep step with the rhythms of the wind
wipping the old house
swirling around our motionless bedroom as we watch the air cool
and fall to earth