i love when they nestle into each other, under the covers.
a smooth grounding curve of arch and toe as right presses left to fade into sleep.
morning hands touch hair face chest attempting to move me to wakefulness
then caress the clouds of pillow again, savoring soft comforts.
i like the touch of things. textures and colors penetrate my skin, the sensation of heaven glistening in through the shapes of this space. i fold in to red threads for morning prayers softening and opening, palms lying wait to touch the day. paused in presence practicing receiving.
naked feet tuck in to the chair a last comfort before the day begins and real work most be done. fearless leaders moving on, holding solid foundation for angles that curve into life. never wanting shoes, yet always playing by the rules. nudity too sensual too earthy a pleasure.
hands touch pens and paper, water that flows in streams, bodies sweaty moving breathing holding space for them to move deeper. into the places where only they can touch themselves.
the tickle of textures from sandal to pebble, grass to sand i always savor the sensation of where i stand. and the things i carry, books, words, faith. feathers caressing shoulders, firm warriors holding out against a harsh dawn.