we were running in the evening air

the top of the hill our finish line
both of us panting at the end
she so near to me I tingled
as a mist of breath caressed my cheek
this morning boys jog in the park
a tall girl swings on a low tree branch
yearlings        faces not yet marked
they feel the sunlight on their face
dampness of the still-wet grass
later we were together        close
in the deepest corner of the empty barn
the scents of hair and skin and earth
all the many colors
                        of the end

                                    and the beginning

Wet Bulb Thermometer

Usually it’s a dry heat here

but the last week brought humidity
and air conditioners grind on overtime
until the midnight bedroom windows
offer cooling currents of relief
side by side         the sheet pulled half way up
we search for pleasing weather words
temperature is nice       barometer too clinical
dew point has a sensuous ring
now the wet bulb thermometer
sounds a little twisted for our taste
but it offers numerical measurement
of how a casual arm would feel
laid across the arch of waist
and how a finger will glide on flesh
in a night when skin feels perfect touching skin
and gentle movements quickly leave behind
the state of the wet bulb thermometer

©Frank Kearns 2014