This Poem was Submitted By: William R Wilson On Date: 2001-03-16 10:53:58 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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The Heat

             The Heat In from the bronzed with sundown fields,  comes the fence tender, hot, dry, and dust covered. Lanquid drapes sway with desert-broiled breezes from an  old screened window. The soft murmur of a sole oscillating fan enhances the doldrum of the shade darkened  room on the silent range. With demeaner honed and insinuation high his squint glares. "I have toiled hard Ma'am. Pleasing to see you now. My thirst is salty, our time is short. Fed the sheep for extra, now let me know you, while you  are fine. My desert raven, your man  is due. Before we are known, my pay must be sown. Fill the urn tall, turn up the fire, before I burn." Her long hair, sweeping brown loosened,falls. Beauty unfolds as her drab robing sheds. Lace in the heat. Summer lust flagrant, sighs, turns misty. Cravings entertain. Deep needings uncoil. Set before him, knees parted for tempting, the touch of her moist, slender hand, signals the wretch like a starved wolf  to take his prey. Heat fills, sweat oiled, skin slick, sultry smooth. Cracks of thunder distant, black western horizon, devil weather submission. Fulfilled, duster buttoned, he doffs his hat, exits her door and welcomes  the coming storm and its hint of heat broken.  

Copyright © March 2001 William R Wilson


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