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In The Forest, Where We Meet

An hour each Wednesday is our time of love
after I check the stations along the forest creek.
We meet where beavers made a little pool
and sweet grass covers the sloping bank
canopied by sycamores dancing in the breeze.

We met by chance when I spotted her
at the water's edge on a hot summer day.
Blouse pulled out and open, she was cooling
her bared breasts with a dampened scarf,
humming to the burbling water's song

At the snap of trodden twig she saw and froze
like a startled deer choosing whether to bolt,
then slowly eased, a smile curving her mouth.
"It really does feel quite nice in this heat.
Will you come down and try it, too?"

The water chilled my nipples tight
till she warmed them with her lips.
We crushed the fragrant herbs with
our nakedness, our lust-charged musk
blending with the verdant forest's breath.

Her name is Alice. That's all I know
beyond the wedding band she wore.
It's gone missing now, but for the ring
of white skin hidden from the sun,
betraying the marriage left at home.

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