Dead of Winter

How it really is
me
standing by the bed
backlit by the moonlight
a long decadent stretch
a smile
at you
I will put the brief
and sweet
June roses
in my hair
or this
you and I
by the creek
shoes off
feet in
I'll slide my foot
over to yours
underwater
while the breeze
lifts the skirts
of the willow
not a word
just the
moving water
or this
we will lay
in the tall grasses
and daisies
back to back
the back of my hand
will fall
and rest
lightly
in the curve of your neck
look up
at the sun
coming down
through the leaves

How it really is
right now
how it really is
all the time.