Sun upon Sea-Green

After a walk, I saw Ranfax briefly. I was dangling from chinup bars and she tickled me from behind. Wanted to take her and hug her like mad. In the evening after work, she finger-stalked my side where I sat on a chair near M.G. I caught her hand. With a squeal, she pulled back heavily and I held my grasp. The entire chair moved, rotating. She slid in a circle, her nightgown slipping on the smoothe floor. She rolled round in front of the chair, her back to me. I tickled her sides. She flung her legs up in the air and wriggled wildly. The golden sheaves of her hair fell undulating across my lap, silkily splayed out and scented with bath salts. Her sunlocks crowned a satiny green blouse: Bright gold and the green silk flashing. Her cheeks flushed like red wine filling a glass. Her eyes were as blue as hyacinth, her lips crimson. M.G. kindly condescended, fatherly like. I kept silent. Couldn't speak. She shied off as he blustered: "What a bread-baker, what precocious intellect (for her age). She's a good kid." I looked at her squarely: "I never thought of her as a kid." 13 March 1996

Your blush-hue makes me fill wine-red to the top like a poured glass. The venison-rich kineflesh - life-fattening, grassfed - makes our cheeks flush red. My skin stains crimson in the sea-wind. My nose fills with reek of lambwool, saltwind, grass-cud, cow udder, kine-dung, heather and whin on the wind. Wombsap and springseed, autumn sweet and winter salt, tears and laughs. Deerherding storm girls roll wind-high over sea-cliffs. Willow-wallow-haired woman, winsome, toothsome, resinous, sustaining. Sun-locks over greensod. 24-25 October 2009