WHEN DAY IS DONE

As light begins to fade

She gathers up her tools, regretfully

Birds softly twitter to each other

In the far off trees

The evening dim is falling

She hears vixens calling

To their cubs nearby

A wild, lonely, piercing cry

And feels the urgent pull inside herself

For him

Apron stuffed with fragrant herbs

Aromatics, medicinal, perfumed

Hands full, back tired from bending

She stands up, easing stiffness

Stretching

Suddenly needing comfort

The warmth of him

********

The long days work is done

There’ll be more tomorrow

His body aches from chopping wood

He still feels the axe blade’s rhythmic swing

All the way from thigh muscles

Hips, shoulders

Through to his hands

Clenching and unclenching them

The song of steel on wood

Still ringing in his ears

So that he doesn’t hear her coming

Until she stands before him

Lays down her basket

Moves quietly behind him

Lays hands upon his shoulders

Strong fingers work their way

Deep into hard flesh

She feels him yield

Let all tiredness fall from him

Pain and aching bones

Cramped muscles

Easing, loosening

Letting go

*******

And now as darkness closes round them

The smell of her surrounds him

Fresh, sharp, pungent, clean

The gatherings of her calling

White Lady, She

Yet now her call is silent

As she leans in towards him

As she breathes pinesap, sweat and whisky

The deep male smell of him

Irresistible, intoxicating

He gathers her to him then

Takes her small hand in his

All tiredness gone from both of them

Revived, there is nothing now but hunger

Desire, one for the other

******

One flesh

Beloved husband

Cherished wife

Like the auld story of the Greylag Geese

Mated for life.

Night sounds

A sudden downpour

Falls heavy on my roof

Way in the distance

A dog barks

And then another

Calling out across the rooftops

A train passes through

Distant rhythmic rumble

*******

The rain is gone

Dogs are quiet

The frij hums

MA©️ May 2013

Crow

You big bold bird

Strutting, cawing, muttering

Fluffing your feathers

Under a tree

You don’t see me

But I see you

And laugh

🖤🖤🖤

You in handsome plumage

Black as night

You don’t take fright

In this concrete wasteland

I see you there

Being Crow, nothing more

As supermarket shoppers

Slam their doors

Rev their motors

And roar on by

They don’t see

As I do

I see you

Crow

🖤🖤🖤

MA©️ March 2016

….

THE COMING OF WINTER

The world turns, Autumn’s leaves lie soaked and heavy on the cold ground, breaking down, going back to earth.  She revels in the clean clear cold morning air, sharp, raw, invigorating.  The early morning ritual of lighting the fire….raking over yesterday’s ashes to find the glow beneath, the heat to bring life to her bundle of twigs and eucalyptus leaves. Smoke drifts, filling the cold rooms with the scent of forests, and within moments her thoughts float above the smoke, remembering…..remembering him.

Excerpt from “Breaking Taboos”, an Erotic Fantasy