We frolic like children in a warm bath.
Four o’clock in the afternoon, and the
aqua-brilliance of Pacific salt waters
becomes hot, heavy...Hawaii in August.

Our skin succumbs to the stifling heat,
lips like cracked paper, parched,
blistered, hair bleached, sun-streaked.
Behind us, as we wade in tepid waters,

Etheral timeworn mountains splinter,
vertical sepulchers, fiery daggers
against an orange melon orb garbed
in silky cloudy residue, unperturbed.

Pale white monoliths, lopsided clouds
gather, the lagoon becoming horizonless.
Before these great looming thunderheads,
we make a mad dash for the shore as

A hell-squall rolls in, pelting whited spray
against the sandy beach, tall breakers laying
sails flat, splitting huge boats apart against
the sandy shore like tiny hand-carved toys

We court wild fury with youthful audacity,
mind - spirit reveling in this onslaught of
nature, soaking up the salt spray like desert
dwellers who have found their green oasis.

Regret disappears. What a perfect afternoon
as we strip off our cold damp suits, step into
the enveloping spray of a heated shower in
the warm comfort of our beachfront home.

Soft song surrounds us, beckons us. God’s
song, that windy symphony of pelting rain
and salt spray, streaming against the glass
panes in a wild caress, ancient and timeless.

This lady loves your tanned hands against my
pale breasts. I shake in the wake of storm,
chilled skin, rushing adrenalin, delicious desire.
You soothe my fears, spur my passion, bring me peace.

Love, Jody