Beneath me,
he plays a slow concerto -
an ascent
of melodic motion, I am
gently lifted
on the aria of wind
higher and higher
until softly I fall
again
into the rhythm of
making love.
ii.
In dusky hues
of a raspberry sky,
the silhouette of our
pas de deux
seduces a sigh
from a summer moon
still hidden within
the final hour of daylight.
iii.
Above me,
his eyes close in cadence -
so still so still
until he opens them again
and the tremors begin
triplet waves
rising in crescendo
I am filled
with the sound of
his music.
Bronze trophy winner
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