That Sweet Spot

She was walking quite-quickly

but not fast-hurriedly down the road

The sun a lowslanted orb

Suspended against twilight

Her hair a golden prism

She steps off the crunch-graveled road

Heading left to a copse of trees

Breezily awakened leaves rustle a greeting

Embraced by the shaded haven of branches

Hip-swaying tall grass whispers on bare calves

Passion-eyed he waits

Indulging anticipation they pause

Emotion violently shoves her forward

Into his fervent arms

Subtle scents inhaled

Folding them in deep rapture

Lips cling on bliss

“I have to go…” she breathes

“I know” he nods

They reluctantly smile

She walks away quite-quickly

but not fast-hurriedly down the road