Ocoee

Her fingers
interlaced with mine, 

gently perfectly

skin, silhouetted by the remaining embers,
the sheen and freckles of sweat
nestled between perfect breasts,

warm sweet breaths
lingering against my roughened throat,
  
bare lips. the sparkle of the eyes.  the slender arch of cheekbones.  

 music
 intermittently,
drifting upwards
 through the branches of Tennessee pines,

bare feet upon soft dirty earth,
hands clutching waists,
nudity,
moonshine,
laughter, silence,
the hum and chant of summer crickets,


slow, rhythmic, sway,
dancing
beneath the stars,
among the timbers. 

only us,
our deepest versions,
our perfect rugged selves




Andrew Tipton