There is nothing else

like the slow, cool entrance

of a thunderstorm

or the feathery breath

of my infant daughter

asleep in my bed,

lying there,

a tiny temptress who knows

that the proper thing to do

when a thunderstorm makes

his slow, cool way in the door

is to simply lie back and enjoy it

for all it’s worth

but i am not so easily wooed anymore

not so quickly swayed by slow and cool

and so sometimes i forget

to simply lie back and enjoy

and instead i hold out

a little while longer

until soon, his breath is on my neck

and his hand grips my arm

until i feel his force

and his flashing eyes.

but these are things

she’ll learn with age

how to draw out the pleasures

(and sometimes the pain,

because sometimes

he explodes

pelting me with

millions of hailstones

and pounding on the windows:


better to savor the innocence

of new experience

as long as possible

i will teach

and she will help me


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