There is a pond near your back door.
I am there; I've been there before.
I'm always drawn to this spot,
When days are warm, and I am hot.
To seek you out, or seek you not.
From under your weeping willow.
Creeping, sneaking, seeking, ...
… Leaking to find you out.
Between each frond that gently sways,
By your pond in myriad ways.
A mysterious creature in the leaves,
Catches me and my heart heaves.
A sigh of shock, a sigh of peace,
Your nakedness is my release.
For you are clothed by your pond,
With the swaying of each frond.
Like the night hides your fear,4
That is why I am here.
To consummate on nature's pillow,
Down by your weeping willow.
Copyright 2002 ã Ronald W. Hull