Simmer Down on Flickr – Photo Sharing! Silver mists drape the oaksin a gauzy morning wrapper.The sun peeks between the folds.Mourning doves coo seductive approval. My eyes open into yours.Heat, a moist blanket unfolding, settles over me,weights my limbs with a peaceful presencethat could so easily be stirred to passion.And stir you do, one finger, dipping in, languid circles. My gaze takes a slow journey to your lips,watching you lick and suckle,your eyelids drifting down to savor,like a chef over a delicate sauce,a wicked grin as you invite me to taste.I catch the scent and flavor of my own desire,wriggling closer, inviting your pleasure. You withdraw leaving me withyour unswayable…

Mist the Oak Tree by wabberjocky I heard a chuck-will call through the dark of morning,his song never failingeven as the first lightmade ghosts from last night’s rain. So rare, the chuck-will’s call.I’d mourned him years ago and given up hopeof hearing his bright flute pierce the predawn,summoning misty dancersto a solo waltz through the oaks. Their luminous gowns swirled in perfect time to his ominous song: Chuck-Will’s-WidowChuck- Will’s- Widow Catch the Poetry Train and see what other passengers are sharing.