Monday, May 4, 2015

languid gambol

The night sky stretched out above and below her. The dim, distant shimmer of streetlights beneath were washed away in the moon’s full radiance. Her long fingers led, and her full figure followed. She flowed forward and back to unheard drums, striking sudden and dramatic stances.

With each wild pirouette the moonlight swelled in quiet crescendo. With each poignant pause, gauzy, cirrus striations shadowed the naked hilltop.

She was flush and well-past-filled in the long ecstatic tease of her windswept, birdsong ballet. Her foot work flitted towards frenzy. The moon dropped dizzily toward the horizon. The crickets waxed in their elegant cacophony.

Slowly she collapsed, gasping and florid even as the swollen moon was rent in twain by the still standing stone. She writhed bare upon the earth, looking up.

There did the fireflies continue her wild gambol. The moon fell contentedly away behind the horizon. She felt the cool breeze caress and lightly kiss her still-burning lips.

With a long and languid breath, she smiled. It was set.

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