The Nature of It

Hands dipped into heated olive oil
Emerged to rub together, dripping
They slid heels down on backbone bumps
Then returned on digging fingers
Pushing into hardened gristle
Kneading against shuddering bone
In rhythmic pulsation in synch with her breathing
The nape of her neck and the bone by her ear
Shivered needle pin waves to the tips of her toes
Under hot towels at the end of his session
She wondered aloud at the magic he used
It's all empathetic he whispered it low
Like knowing and telling a horse where to go
Or feeling the freedom of high flying falcons
And the redness of tension to go with the flow
She looked in his eyes at her rising of passion
His hands joined with hers in her needing to know
Outside the herd heard the stallion blow

Reviews

[Blackbirdsong]

This is quite an sensuous poem and quite a pleasure to read. I like you show this relationship through healing touches that soothe and the of course the herd hearing the stallion at the end was perfect.

[Rain]

I hate to say this, but this piece was so descriptive, all I could think of was a deep tissue massage. lol. Although, I know it was much deeper than that. Great piece. Rain..

[AK]

My goodness Donald, this is gorgeous! I'm not surprised, don't get me wrong. Your work always delights. But this dances right on the razor's edge. I like these two folks and right now I am pleased to quietly slip away and leave them to their own devices.

[Gandré]

an unusual poem by you, but I liked it! Lovely pictures! Suspenseful and suprising.

[Ed Hart]

the years steal our youth, but if the gods treat us well, we garner such a bouquet of fine experience and insight, it will tide us well across our hibernating eternity...ed