Dancing For The Gods

A stream-side glade, ripened by birdsong and summer’s peace,
Added to by a maiden strolling, picking flowers to match her dress too blue.
For my eyes it completes a scene pastoral, just right, one of restfulness full and rare.

I see her pause in collecting, stopping to sit a while.
An unselfconscious being dangling slender legs in the cool water’s flow.
Leaning back lightly on arms to match, with eyes slowly absorbing the peace of all before her.

After a while they close to dream along with inner thoughts, as she lays herself back softly in the grass.
Unbroken birdsong, a melody-backdrop to her growing smile, tranquillity for an aura.
And her absorption with such simple pleasures, becomes a wonder to me, from where I watch beyond a tree.

Breathing with slow, deep draughts of the woodland’s musk, she relaxes complete.
Then in unhurried unlacing of her dress to the navel, releases pale breasts with artful motion.
Freeing them to look unabashed, back up at the sky.
My eyes see the delight of dark-flesh’d areola rise, their crowning nipples tighten in stiffening, to the breeze’s caress.

Parting her legs freely inside that wide dress, with unhurried calm she draws up the hem.
Letting the breeze in to touch intimately around her most tender spot,
Allowing herself the enjoyment of rare exposure, away from kin and duty’s distraction.
My fascination follows her hands’ motion, as they move down over brief ridges of fabric,
Watching with intent as they nestle themselves with small motions, between creamy thighs, soon to grow creamier.

My joy is equal to hers - a doubled pleasure that of observing another’s pleasuring manner, in privacy, with no scene to be played to.
The other hand traces from breast to breast, in lingering strokes,
As the one slides lightly up and down, in seeking through downy hairs, between softening, moist lips.

Legs parting slowly up and wider, I see her hand’s motions concentrate, circling the spot.
The other slides its fingers up inside that sweet crevice,
And I fancy that I catch her scent coming back to me on the faint breeze, as plainly as I hear those small, wet noises.

Her hips move with light undulations of responsive twitches,
Arching her back in gentle stretching, as the two explorers near their goal.
Until only a single flexing finger, beckons her release.

Then with a soft cry to the woodland, she trembles and shakes,
Body - part by part, subsiding into another kind of peace.
I observe her lain there for a while in stillness, open to the world, pale legs framing, and drawing my eye still to that beauty-spot,
Where fingers slowly continue their dance for the gods.