She has
Shed her socks and jacket
And now
Reclines on the soft green grass
Beneath the crepe myrtle tree.

Cool fingertips are moving
Down her nose and lips,
Tracing the lines ofher body
Through her pale blue t-shirt.

The crimson flowers
From the tree above fall
And land around her;
One floats down onto her cheek
And soft, freezing lips
Brush it away.

Eyelashes trail
Butterfly kisses down her throat
And she is
Shivering
Under the touch of this
Graceful, sensual lover,
Her skin so hot it is cold,

Or is it the other way around—

She cannot tell.
She is
Lost
But it is
1:25 PM and
She is
Making love
To a rainy day,
Soaked and utterly sated.