5:55
Make a wish!
Gold coin in the mouth of a fish?
Nah…
A Menage a Trois
Oh yes, mistress, yes!
On this morning of June so nubile
I’ll lift your Sunday dress
Your wet petals caress
Mmm
I love to hear you sigh
You smell so good
Breathe your sweet bouquet of breath on me
That breeze!
You’re such a tease
Play with my hair
Touch me everywhere
Oh, oh, oh
She’s joined us now
The one that I love
She’s kissing me
Lips of nectar
Blue eyes wide open
The three of us
Just us three
Passionate trinity
Under a Cottonwood
Nature’s Fuck
On the Colorado open range
Poplar agoraphilia
Seeding the sky with fuzzy snow
25 million possibilities per tree
Like sperm
Softer than feather down floating through the air
Looking everywhere for a place to implant
The odds of failure so overwhelming
Maybe only one will make it
So
In the coffee and brandy afterglow
That’s my wish, darling girl:
For our love to land
Deeply rooted and impossibly deep
In the fertile soil of a forgiving heart
Viable though any impossibility
New life
——————
Andrew Dabar
Mistress Spring
Andrew Dabar 
https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/special/metro/urban-jungle/pages/100518.html
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I made a short comment on your poem earlier in the day, but don’t know if it went through. 🙄
We have cottonwoods and its close cousin, the sycamore, around here, mainly close to rivers and streams. When I was a child, my siblings and I played in a humongous sycamore that perched on the bank of a small stream. Good memories—though of a different kind than your poem evoked. ☺️
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Hey! No, your other comment didn’t come through. This comment is the first one I’ve seen. I figured I might have embarrassed everybody! 😁
I remember in your writing, when you described perfectly the childhood sycamore tree memory. It was one of my favorite pieces of yours.
Here, in the ski resort towns of Colorado, I’ve never seen so many things floating through the air! All the rich people have their Flonase out! And I’m laughing! Rich people get on my nerves! But I love them.
I was watching the sunrise, as usual, half drunk, and wrote a lousy poem but very true to the moment…..which is why I won’t delete it.
I asked a nice old lady at a gas station, “what the hell is that floating in the air?” And she said simply, “Cottonwood reproducin.” And so, with my black coffee half in half with Paul Masson plain Brandy, I wrote a “poem” on my phone. 🤣🤣
PS. Thanks for commenting, July.
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I had commented that I didn’t know quite to say about your poem, that it almost embarrassed me. Almost. lol ☺️
No matter the erotic content, it’s still a good poem; I’m glad you’ll leave it up. It’s not the first time you’ve dipped your pen in erotica, and it probably won’t be the last. 😉
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Laughing. Nope!
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I’m glad I’m too old to be shocked or embarrassed anymore. And above all, am open to all forms of expression. No snowflake here, just an oldish woman who has seen it all…or most of it. 😁
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Smiling!
Wasn’t it Hemingway who advised write one sentence that is true?
Let’s make the whole world blush! Hell, they’re already thinking it.
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I’ll let you make the world blush; I’m not good at it. I can dip in a toe, but that’s about it. In the back of my mind, I’m always thinking, “What would my daddy think if he read this?” lol
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