In the Woods on a Summer Afternoon

In the Woods on a Summer Afternoon

In the woods on a summer afternoon,
Just after June, and half-full of wine,
We stumbled beneath the canopy of leaves,
To see what we might find.

Of tomorrow, of work, we barely did think,
You see, we’d had rather a lot to drink.
In front of us, the path turned narrow,
With the call of a very vacant sparrow.

And then you tripped on a gnarly root
-Though I knew you wanted us to fall-
“I am frightfully clumsy!” You said,
You said it kind of cute.

The mud made a comfortable mattress,
And bluebells decorated the floor,
Whilst you, hungry,
Pulled my lips to yours.

From the glint in your eye, I knew all too well
Where this would go, as you slipped your hand below
My belt, and gave him a good squeeze.
And the sunlight shattered, as it broke through the trees.

Her eyes looked down at our bodies in rhyme,
But at the same time, we did not quite fit together
Like the wind through the trees,
Or the scent of foxgloves in the breeze
Blown through the heather.

I saw the squirrels slide along the branches,
And heard the moans of trees, clinging to their leaves,
And the bees dancing, promiscuous dances
On a bed of scattered petals.

The water-smoothed rocks of the river
Glistened in a diamond apology to the sun,
And the trickle of water, whispered its thanks,
As the river burst its banks.

My legs didn’t feel the stinging of the nettles,
And my eyes didn’t itch from the pollen smothered petals,
As my neck didn’t notice the tickling of the vine,
Our bodies were there, but not in my mind.