the pulse

in august my fingers traced your wrist and
awakened globe and glow
crouching copper
crouching flame.

recalling:

that horizon was
a sunspill veil over hills
of naked plain.  hips and waists
pale   gold spun
  
and rolling.
rolling land and rolling.  and
it was heats crested
under cover of fire opal and flashing light.

under coral breeze.
that scape was sunset moonrise and
now you.  curving calves and shoulders
back alive and open space and

in august we were close.
then dusk.     trace us and
that wheat-scented sky