Available posted 4/8/2008 10:41:42 AM | 4 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: spring, gardening

HighlandsLass

I need more, at least two inches more. I reach for you and you respond. You dig deeper, penetrating the resistance, extending to depths I’ve only imagined. Your firm tool pushes ever deeper, and pulling away, the fullness of it arches my back. The exertion makes me whimper – my spine composes that rhythmic rat tat tat of release against the effort. It does not matter, the pain, the struggle, the force is almost unbearable but exquisitely so-- I come back to you again and again.

I reach for you in morning mist, before the world has awakened fully, everything damp and shadowy. You stand ready, firm, your hardness reassuring. We will meet the situation head on, my eagerness perfectly paired with the faultlessness of your equipment. All is at hand. We apply our effort fully until I am spent.

We part for a time. I come back to you, link with you, even in the midday heat. We dig even deeper, smoothing out the roughness that awaits. You enter the moist soil of defense, and break through to the evenness, the core, the foundation of all that is, all that will be.

Evening too, you respond to my touch, hard and willing, nothing I ask of you is denied to me. My salty sweat pours from me and yet you ignore this physical offense, you do not find it unseemly. Readily you surrender all of you length, breadth, and power to the sweet completion that looms.

I am reassured. I know that should I want you in the night, when stars pinpoint the heavens, you are accessible, ever obtainable. That I can use you, fully, freely at my desire is heaven to me, and I in turn am compelled to give you all of me.

God, I love a good shovel.

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