Melted

She had a moment of clairvoyance,

The second before, and she knew

This could be the beginning of her new life.

He reached for her, drew her in,

Circling one strong arm firmly about her waist.

She felt small, petite, there, in that hold.

He slid his right hand up along her neck,

Cupping her face, holding her

As if she was delicate crystal, precious.

Their breathing synchronized,

And he tilted her face up to his.

His lips touched hers, and flitted away,

Then raced towards her again.

Her breath became his,

And his breath was hers.

She was warm, and flushed,

And in fact, she was melted.

Catherine Schmidt

 

 

Skinlessness

Somewhere in between
the weaving of cotton-threaded sheets,
and the matched naked bodies
lying spooned to each other.
In the bliss that follows, 
the breathlessness, the exhilaration,
the praising of something
akin to a higher power
but chemically rooted in the brain.
The mingling of scents, for tomorrow,
his redolence will linger in her hair,
and he will smell her fragrance on his hands.
On the premise of loneliness,
of affection, of wanting,
They will give and taste of each other.
All in the name of oneness,
the search for skinlessness,
in between cotton-threaded sheets.

Catherine Schmidt

Torrential Down Pour

 

In the gentle flush of the evening light

There comes a calming clamor

That speaks of the ages

Of the circles intertwined

As the weaver mingling fibers

Lovingly over and under each other

The din sings, and swells to a magnificent aria

Hailing and tapping, calling to the night

Drumming out a rhythm

Thousands of joyous hands clapping

And weary feet dancing

I stand at the screen door in wonder

The rain keeps coming down

Laughing and singing, clapping

As it meets the flagging leaves

Of the India green corn.

 

Catherine Schmidt