Heat

It surprises me, in my old age,

this heat rising up –

not summoned, not pursued –

a moment that could easily disappear

between awake and sleep.

It was so common in younger days –

sought, needed – 

a way of exploring, of discovery.

A step into love and commitment.

It is different now,

weeks and months dissolve

into rituals closing down our days,

yawns, lights out, sleep tight,

we might say or love you.

Yet, sometimes into that moment

between awake and asleep

a spark ignites into a flame. 

The caress of hands and lips

takes me from drowse

to arouse and the heat is as real, 

as urgent as it was in the beginning.

We know the way –

no mystery or discovery.

known to each other

we follow familiar pathways

into fiery bliss.

We collapse into our pillows —

That was awesome, we agree.

Let’s do it again sometime. 

BIO:

Heather Weisfield, a retired librarian lives in the amazing Columbia River Gorge. The landscape of snowcapped mountains, green forests and snow-fed rivers inform much of what she writes. She is also inspired by her close knit family – her grandson loves it when she works him into a poem.