Ruckus, and Other Saintly Practices (day 776)

Touch me as I lose control of my breath
Lower my eyes into the depths of fire
Invite my courage to span this low lit mood
Rumble over my curves like the moon
Encourage my glow to seek thy skin
With an eruption of goosebumps
Curl around my exposed knees
Bend until you’re wrapped so dearly close
Loosely drape sheets about your naked breast
Skirt my attention with tangles of your hair
Blow upon my fingers as you read about their days
Measure out the distance to the embers of my heart
Icy cold hands make your heart flutter flutter
Sip upon the brow of this thickly layered elixir
Put between your lips the essence from a kiss

Perfect Pitch (day 412)

The perfect pitch that follows me around town
Through the back of the bushes with a hand of her skirt
Down the cobblestones on the squeaky bike
Over the bridge with the perfect arc
And the crystal clear water with the biggest fish around

The same one that whispered in my ear as I sipped on the morning tea
Admiring the speed at which the croissant oiled the paper it came wrapped in
That stopped the spread of a thousand tiny crumbs
Through the hair that felt good today
And the warm sun that easily was enjoying the morning as much as I

This is the breath that I inhale as I think
That pushes me forth into the pastures so free
And gallantly holds my head up high as I
Hold up my hand and shout the perfect pitch that rattles through my teeth
This is how I stretch in the morning, inviting the day to begin