creek-side

Slow-roasted citrus salmon
And your lips basted with a reduction sauce
A hint of wild green curry
And cold wine poured generously
Into a new glass
Almost full with our reflections
An overhead fan turned slowly under a heavily painted sky
On the carpet you ate a mouth full of me
While your fork rested on the silver plate
I slipped my finger into your hot black coffee and stirred
We thought of lavender oils and Canadian geese
Flying in formation hungry for a warm place to go
We listened to our own music throughout the day
And it did not disappoint.