August ride

Pedaling along loosely paved country
roads less traveled
and under covered bridges
that live only in postcards.

On a clinquant cruiser
with a wicker basket for wine
and meaty tires
to chew up the miles.

Radiant in pink
a sundress with two green buttons at the shoulders
and flaxen hair
gilded by the late afternoon sun.

An open field
a blank canvas in front of us
and the grass soft enough we don't unpack the sheet we brought
we just let the blades dance on our skin.

Three towns over
a storm brews like strong coffee
and only the hair on our necks
seem to notice.

You lean in to kiss me softly
soft and sweet like a ripe strawberry
and harder as you pull me closer
as if to say "let's always be this."