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In the Midst

July 6, 2013

She drips on the rock

I taste her on my tongue and

Listen to the rustling leaves

In a bounty of breezes.

I move to hear her heart and sighs

She moves to make me drop

To the ground

In captivating pleasure.

The movement startles a lizard

Scurrying back to safety.

The taste of salt, the breeze and fine juices

Fill my head with cotton and a dizziness;

Fill me with the moment,

The thrill at hand,

The hiking interlude.

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