the dance of the orange wind

Kiss me
here
on this
sun-dried mountaintop
with the wind
burning our cheeks
singing and dancing
between us
in celebration
of all there is
and all that can be,
carried away into
the infinite unknowns,
the fear of adventure
like the rush
and heat of passion.
pull your lips toward mine
taste the lingering
sweet of oranges
my hand around your neck
containing the moment
cherishing
the mountain for its presence,
the wind for the dance,
the kiss for its flavor,
the moment’s passing orange.

– Previously Published

Iceland-Landscape-Kirkjufell