Perhaps

In the pause
Before first light
Unwilling to wake
Your hands find me
And I rise
At your touch.

Smiling
I think of last night
Your cheek
Upon my shoulder
Before the slide
Into darkness.

Our ceiling fan
Circles
In the predawn
Hush
Hush
Hush
Hush.

The night has been busy.

In sylvan fields
We roamed
Dancing
Upon river bluffs
Soaring
With falcons
Falling
Through thunderheads
Sailing
Down rainbows
Until this half-awakening.

Your touch rouses me
Teasing me
New with promise.

Perhaps
Even the sun rises
At the heat
Of your touch.