I have something with meadows,
more than with woods or the beach.
The colour of the grass, the flowers,
a bright blue sky, just before sunset.
Laying naked on a blanket, with a salad,
fresh fruits and a glass of cool white wine.
The sounds of the insects
and the wind gently dancing
a slow fox of loving tenderness.
Butterflies fluttering, spikelets tickling.
Bound, fed and used relentlessly.
The scent of cut grass, when grabbed.