The Wine of Desire
By Stormcat
think; aromas encountered mowing hay after a rainstorm, mild
earthy sweetness, trapped in the field’s insulating fur, extracted
in swaths sequentially as fingers comb the crop, drifting off
the surface, injecting the breeze, teasing nostrils with boluses
of fleeting intoxication, incrementally drawing the face closer
to a rising valley floor, in turn stimulating the source, iteration
consuming reason, until beyond control the crop parts, the
tongue darts, tasting the wine of desire from its very source.
Quite beautiful, especially "aromas encountered mowing hay after a rainstorm, mild earthy sweetness, trapped in the field's insulating fur." Ah....lovely.
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