Fields of Clover

I'm telling myself to let go,
sink back between the blades of grass
that are sticky with the nectar and pollen abandoned
by the blossoms abloom across the field. Watch
you lick the clouds from the corner of my cheek,
your lips a subtle taste against mine
while the wind shudders beneath the skin of my clothing.
But this is only the beginning
as we lock arms and gain momentum,
rolling down the hill, petals crushed,
grass worked loose throughout our hair
while the bees buzz angrily into the sky.
There's nothing beyond the feeling of your hand
in mine, the hard weight of your body atop of me
as we lay gasping, laughing wildly in a heap
at the bottom of the hill,
nothing more organic than this moment
with you.