poem 145 of a poem a day for 2012 (NaPoWriMo33)

a satyr spied a dryad 

I happened upon

this spun clay

cupped bent

kneel drink

of water

and what I found

was that I was

quenching my thirst

with every tremble

pouring of the fool

wanting to feel

his way home

wrapped of her again

I wanted to dance

outside my physical world

in a smile of pure devilry

with a hearty lust for her angel wings

if only to fly in her curled vines

where a night together starts

a capitulatory story spill

of waiting arms wading

into morning's glorious recall of

slow sips

vined lips

and hips that fit

spooning nectar

to the bloom

through the loom

we press and whorl

lever and string

the murmurs of moan

sewn into where our soul's

cages meet our bones

crawling in the wet sand

that time often writes

our names into

when chanced upon

a choice to eat

and drink only of

desire for more bliss

and some may think that 

this was never a choice

and that makes me smile

at the chance

I've just taken

with a hush quiet step

and my oh so nimble tongue 

savoring her fingers

EJR ©